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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 
OF  CI\  IL  WAR  NOVELS 
PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


/ 


PANOLA. 


A  TALE  OF  LOCISIAM. 


BY  MRS.  SARAH  A.  DORSET. 

AUTHOR  OF 
"AGNES  GRAHAM,"  "ATHALIE,"  "LUCIA  DARE." 


''A  seaside  house  to  tJie  farther  South, 
Where  the  baked  cicalas  die  of  drouth. 

And  one  sharp  tree— 'tis  a  cypress— stands 
By  the  many  hundred  years  red-rusted. 
Rough,  iron-spiked,  ripe  fruit  d  er-crusted— 
My  sentinel  to  guard  the  sands 
To  the  -water's  edge. 
*  *  *  *  * 

While  in  the  house  forever  crumbles 
Some  fragment  of  the  frescoed  walls 
From  blisters  -where  a  scorpion  sprawls— 
A  girl  barefooted  brings,  and  tu7iibles 

Down  on  the  pavement,  green  flesh  melons." 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T.  B.  PETERSO]Sr  &  BROTHERS; 

306  CHESTNUT  STIIEET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1877,  by 
T.   B.   PETERSON   &   BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 

MRS.  SARAH  A.  DORSET'S  WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  large  Volame. 

PANOLA.    A  Tale  of  Loiuskina.    By  Mrs.  Saeaii  A.  DoRSEY. 
Que  volume,  duodecimo,  cloth,  black  uud  gold,  price  tl.oU. 

Read  the  following  notice  of  "  Panola,"  tvriffen  by  Dr.  Mackenzif,  Literary 
Editor  of  Forney^ s  Daily  Press,  wfio  read  the  work  in  manuscript. 

"Panola,"  a  Tale  of  Louisiana,  U  from  tlie  pen  of  Mi-s.  Sarah  A.  Doi-scy,  a 
talented  and  highly  educated  lady,  distinguished  in  biography  and  romance. 
The  story  is  very  peculiar,  and  strikingly  original,  in  its  philosophy,  its  indi- 
viduality of  characters,  and  the  successive  steps  in  the  narrative  by  which  the 
action  culminates  in  a  verj'  striking  and  most  unexpected,  though  highly  sat- 
isfactory conclusion.  Life  in  the  south-western  part  of  Louisiana  is  repre- 
sented with  a  brilliancy  of  description  which,  indeed,  is  word-painting  of  the 
most  artistical  order.  The  dialogue  really  advances  the  action,  (which  dia- 
logue too  often  fails  to  do,)  and  in  the  few  lettei-s  that  are  introduced,  the 
rf)-a/Ha<ts/)e>->o?iff  respectively  give  their  views  of  society.  Although  Panola, 
a  bright  and  lovel.v  child  of  genius,  who  is  a  natural  musician,  is  the  principal 
heroine — a  veritable  prima  donna  in  more  ways  than  one — there  is  a  rival, 
scarcely  less  beautiful  if  somewhat  less  excellent.  There  are  two  lovers,  to 
maintain  the  balance — but  the  best  of  these  has  unfortunately  lost  the  use  of 
his  limbs — like  the  young  King  of  the  Black  Islands,  of  the  Arabian  tale,  who 
was  half  man  and  half  marble.  Under  such  circumstances,  this  gentleman 
would  scarcely  have  his  name  written,  by  a  fashionable  niuther,  on  the  list  of 
"eligible"  candidates  for  her  fair  daughter's  baud!  Nevertheless,  he  does 
contrive  to  marry  the  ''  ladye  of  his  love,"  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  both, 
tboiigh  the  preliminary  miracle  which  enabled  this  to  be  done  is  to  be  fuund 
only  in  the  closing  chapters  of  the  story.  Panola  has  Cherokee  blood  in  her 
veius,  and  some  of  her  race  prove,  in  this  storj-,  that  they  indeed  are  "  Children 
of  the  Sun  with  whum  Revenue  is  virtue."  The  book  abounds  in  interest — ■ 
marriage,  divorce,  a  great  musician's  debw'  and  triumph,  the  alternations  of 
various  and  conflicting  passions — death  by  poison,  and  the  already  hinted  pun- 
ishment of  the  criminal.  Twj  very  interesting  chanicters  are  an  old  French 
Doctor  of  medicine  and  a  German  naturalist.  As  the  " universal  dollar" 
manages  to  work  itself  into  evei-y thing  below,  we  may  hint  that  a  trifle  of 
over  three  millions  is  a  bequest  in  the  vei-y  first  chapter. 

AGNES  GRAHAM.    A  Novel.    By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Doksey. 
One  volume,  octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Cents. 

ATHALIE.    "A  Winter's  Tale."    By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey. 
One  volume,  octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Cents. 

LUCIA  DARE.    A  Novel.    By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey.    One 
volume,  octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Cents. 

^/^^ Above  books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers  and  News  Agents. 

^^" Copies  of  any  one  or  all  of  the  above  books  will  be  sent  to 
any  one,  to  any  plac-e,  postage  prejxiid,  or  free  of  freight,  on 
remitting  the  price  of  the  ones  wanted,  to  the  publishers, 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


TO  A  MAN  WHOSE  RARE  FIDELITT  IN  FRTENDSIIIP  IS  A  THEME 
OF  ADMIRATION  FOR  ALL  WHO  KNOW  HIM. 


TO 


COLOKEL  JOHN  M.  SANDIDGE, 

OI"      X,0"U"ISI-A.Isr-A., 

THIS  BOOK   IS  INSCRIBED  BY  ONE  WHO  IS  GLAD  TO  WRITE 
HERSELF  AMONG  THE  NUMBER  OF  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Elkridge,  Tensas  Parish, 
August  2.0th,  i877. 


r 


CONTENTS. 


. <-»»»> 

CHAPTER  *'*°* 

I. — IX  THE  ATTAK APAS 25 

II, — THE   HEROINE ^^ 

III.— A  FAMILY   GROUP ^1 

lY. — ACTED  CHARADES "^^ 

v.— NATIKA   JACQUmiN 87 

VI.— CHEROKEE  JOE  SUSPECTS 93 

VII.— MUCH-MARRIED  LIZBETTE 11*3 

VIII.— A  GER3IAN  NATURALIST 1-5 

IX.— MONSIEUR  LE  DOCTEUR 137 

X.— A   A'ERY  W03IAN 1-^^ 

XI.— COUSINS'  GOSSIP l-t'3 

Xn.— CHICORA'S  FAWN 1'50 

XIII.— A  sage's    PHILOSOPHY lo-t 

3^jy,__THE  ASTRONOMICAL  CALCULATION 1-37 

XV. — THE  STORY  OF   ODIN 10:2 

XVI.— LOVE  AVILL   RULE 1G6 

XVII.— HOT  SPRINGS  OF  ARKANSAS 172 

XVIII.— IN  THE  DARK  HOURS 1'5 

(21) 


22  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.— MARRIED   IN  HASTE ISO 

XX.— PASSING  AWAY 191 

XXI.— CHICORA'S  DEATH 195 

XXII.— THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LOVE 204 

XXIII. — MADAME  BOLLING'S  FLOWERS 212 

XXIV. — A  SUCCESSFUL    DEBUTANTE 215 

XXV. — A  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  POISON 223 

XXVI.— TRAGIC  RETRIBUTION 22S 

XXVII.— PANOLA  IN  PARIS 235 

XXVIII. — VICTOR'S    DEATH 249 

XXIX. — love's   MIRACLE 252 

XXX.— THE    CHEROKEE  CHIEF 256 


"A  seaside  Jiouse  to  the  farther  South, 
Where  the  baked  cicalas  die  of  drouth, 

And  one  sharp  tree— 'tis  a  cypress— stands 
By  the  many  hundred  years  red-rusted. 
Hough,  iron-spiked,  ripe  fruit  o'er-crusted— 
My  sentinel  to  guard  the  sands 
To  the  ivater's  edge. 


* 


,  .1 '» 


While  in  the  house  forever  crumbles 
Some  fragment  of  the  frescoed  icalls 
From  blisters  lohere  a  scorpion  sprawls— 

A  girl  bare-footed  brings,  and  tumbles 
Down  on  the  pavement,  green  jiesh  melons. 

Browning. 

"We  are  the  sum  of  our  ancestors— plus— ourselves." 

Anjje  Seemuller. 


pa:n^ola. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IX    THE   ATTAKAPAS. 

THE  day  was  beautiful.  The  sunshine  of  May 
poured  all  over  and,  it  seemed,  all  through  the 
very  earth,  in  the  country  of  "  The  Attakapas."  The 
yellow  jasmine  flung  its  garlands  of  golden,  per- 
fumed chalices  around  the  very  tops  of  the  tallest 
forest  trees,  mino^lino^  its  flowers  with  the  streamers 
of  venerable  gray  Spanish  moss  (Tillandsia),  Avhich 
draped  the  huge  branches,  and  which  waved  with 
silvery,  undulating  gleams  in  the  breezy  sunshine. 
The  Cherokee  rose  flaunted  its  long  pennons  of 
great  white  flowers  and  small,  dark,  glistering  leaves 
over  miles  and  miles  of  hedge  rows.  The  red-bud 
(Judas  tree)  was  set  thickly  in  spikes  of  blooms, 
the  white  locust  hung  its  cornucopice  of  honey- 
smelling  papilionaceous  blossoms  high  above  the 
hu^re  rose  hedges,  and  its  blossoms  were  filled  with 

(25) 


j 


26  PANOLA. 

myriads  of  busy  humming  bees.     As  for  butterflies, 
who  could  number  them? 

There  were  every  sort  of  the  day  butterflies,  who 
have  knobs  at  the  end  of  their  antennae ;  the  asterias, 
and  the  yellow  philodice,  and  the  beautiful  deiopeise ; 
the  phoetou  and  the  vauessas ;  the  admiral,  the  this- 
tle, and  the  golden  C.  vanessas ;  the  troilus,  the 
philenor,  the  Danaus,  and  the  idalias — all  the 
aristocratic  idlers,  who,  clothed  with  silver  and  gold 
and  purple,  ornamented  with  ever-varying  splendor, 
have  naught  to  do  but  to  seek  their  own  pleasure 
and  spend  their  life  of  a  summer  day  in  fluttering 
from  bough  to  bough,  satiating  themselves  with 
sweetest  nectar. 

The  butterflies  had  a  pretty  good  time  of  it  if 
they  escaped  the  beaks  of  the  mocking-birds,  during 
the  caterpillar  period ;  it  was  rare  that  the  birds 
attacked  the  full-grown  insect,  though  sometimes 
one  might  see  the  very  poetry  of  the  chase  in  a 
mocking-bird's  pursuit  after  a  fluttering  yellow 
colias,  which  it  alwavs  cau2:ht  and  flew  away  with, 
bearing  it  off  with  the  golden  wings  quivering  at 
the  end  of  its  curved  bill.  It  was  pretty  to  see, 
though  sad  for  the  insect,  of  course. 

The  ground  was  carpeted  on  the  wide  prairies 
with  acres  and  acres  of  precious  little  Houstonias,  the 
^^ Child's  DeligJit/'  as  the  Southern  people  call  them, 
more  poetically  than  the  wise  botanists.  The  mock- 
in  o;-bird3  were  sinojins:  their  very  maddest  bursts  of 


IN     THE     ATTAKAPAS.  27 

delirious  music.  Spriug-life  is  strong  in  this  semi- 
tropical  land !  Cardinal  birds,  in  brilliant  groups 
of  carmine,  pecking  the  bright  green  grass,  oc- 
casionally stopped  to  sing  their  little  song  of 
"  Sweetie,  sweetie,  sweetie."  Blue-birds  flitted 
about,  like  bits  shed  out  of  the  azure  sky.  Whole 
flocks  of  lovely  little  swamp  warblers,  green  and 
gold,  red  and  yellow,  blue  and  brown,  of  every  tint 
and  changeful  sheen  of  color,  would  suddenly  drop 
upon  the  emerald  herbage  (like  a  cloud  of  flakes 
from  a  broken  rainbow),  hop,  twitter,  then  fly  up 
and  disappear  in  the  sun-lighted  air  as  quickly  as 
they  had  come.  Humming-birds  beat  their  wings, 
vibrating  from  umbel  to  umbel  of  the  scarlet 
Yecoma  trumpets,  and  the  lilac  bunches  of  the  China 
tree  (Melia  Azadarach)  were  the  chosen  haunts  of 
the  tiny  mango  colibri.  Turtle-doves  sang  softly 
and  mournfully  their  invitation  to  their  mates, 
"  Come  into  the  woods  !  Come  into  the  woods  !  ^' 
The  fig  trees  were  pushing  young,  green  leaflets. 
Grape  vines,  in  flower,  pulsated  pufis  of  incense  on 
the  warm  air.  Orange  trees,  in  stately  rows,  were 
showering  cream-white  petals  down  upon  the  wide 
sheets  of  cotton  cloth,  that  Lizbette  had  spread  so 
carefully  under  their  boughs  in  order  to  catch  cast- 
off  corollas;  for  Lizbette  was  a  skilful  compounder 
of  all  sorts  of  orange  syrups  and  citron  confections. 
"Was  she  not  a  "  cordon  bleu,"  "  nata "  as  well  as 
'^ fit "  amons:  Creole  cooks?     "Whose  oransce-flower 


28  PANOLA. 

water  was  better  and  more  soothing  to  weak  nerves, 
or  better  known  than  hers?  Who  understood  as 
she  did  the  manufacture  of  the  delicate  Pralines 
of  the  stowed  orange-petals,  after  the  syrup  had  been 
perfected?  Whose  liqueur  of  the  passion  flowers 
was  clearer  and  stronger  than  hers?  Surely  for 
these  things"  Lizbette  was  widely  famed  throughout 
the  whole  of  the  Attakapas. 

It  was  Docteur  Canonge's  house.  "  Le  Docteur 
Renee  Canonge.'^  So  the  people  called  him  in  the 
Attakapas.  In  France,  when  people  spoke  of  him 
— and  people  did  speak  of  him  there  sometimes,  in 
the  scientific  academies  and  such-like  places — he  was 
called  "  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Canonge,  et  de 
Rocheterre.'^ 

Lizbette  never  forgot  this  fact,  if  other  people 
did.  Why  should  she?  Was  she  not  the  chief 
"  cuisinih'e,^'  the  cook  of  the  family,  and  in  her  own 
opinion  the  chief  governor  of  the  whole  establish- 
ment? And  did  she  not  reflect  all  its  dignity? 
Ah,  bah  !  Lizbette  snapped  her  fingers  in  the  faces 
of  cooks  of  roturiers,  and  such-like  vulgar  persons. 
She  ahvavs  wore  a  £rav-colored  bandana  kerchief 
tied  high,  like  a  helmet,  svith  an  outflying  plaited 
shell  of  starched  ends  over  each  ear.  Ko  one  but 
Lizbette  could  solve  the  mystery  of  the  plaiting  of 
that  handkerchief!  It  could  only  be  fashioned  by 
a  Louisiana  quadroon ! 

Immediately  about  the  house  there  was  a  trim 


IN    THE     ATTAKAPAS.  29 

flower-garden  enclosed  by  a  thick  hedge  of  the  Laii- 
rierd'amande,  cut  into  a  square,  low  wall  of  verdure. 
Inside  of  this  garden  there  were  grotesque  chairs, 
and  flat  tables,  and  umbrollas,  and  pyramids  and 
cubes  and  griffins  cut  out  of  the  same  plants,  whose 
glossy  leaves  are  so  readily  clipped  and  trained  into 
any  fantastic  form.  This  parterre  was  somewhat 
formal,  but  it  was  queer  and  pretty  and  so  very 
French,  that  it  Avas  pleasant  to  look  at.  It  had 
character. 

U  esprit  Gaulois  was  stamped  on  every  line  of  it. 
It  had  all  the  old-fashioned  favorite  French  flowers 
in  its  funny  little  beds;  each  bed  was  carefully 
bordered  with  red  bricks,  and  inside  of  the  bricks 
grew,  around  each  bed,  a  row  of  double  violets, 
now  all  blossoming  and  very  fragrant.  There  were 
lots  of  mignonette,  and  of  carnations,  of  clove  pinks 
and  pansies;  also  bunches  of  fleur  d'  lis  in  the 
corners.  Lizbette  used  to  make  calamus  of  the 
sweet  flag-roots,  and  she  used  the  violets  and  rose 
leaves  for  tisane.  She  also  used  the  lavender  and 
verbena  grasses  among  her  linen ;  and  of  the  fennel 
and  grape  leaves  she  used  many  to  green  her 
pickles.  Marigolds  and  sweet  bay  and  rosemary 
served  for  seasoning  soups ;  and  of  the  glorious  lilies, 
the  candidum,  which  reverent  painters  put  into  the 
Virgin's  hands,  Lizbette  made  a  fine  healing  salve 
for  cuts  and  burns.  So  it  was  for  that  they  grew, 
Lizbette   believed.     "What  did   she   care  for  their 


30  PANOLA. 

beauty  ?    Lizbette  was  eminently  practical  in  all  her 
ideas ! 

The  garden  walks  were  cemented  with  yellow 
plaster,  and  there  were  numbers  of  very  ugly 
earthenware  vases  filled  with  verbenas  and  gay 
petunias ;  and  some  curiously  moulded  and  much 
dilapidated  plaster  statues  w^re  planted  and  scat- 
tered about  in  secluded  nooks,  as  well  as  at  intervals 
along  the  garden  walks.  They  were  originally  in- 
tended to  increase  the  general  efiPect  of  "  Watteau- 
happy-shepherdistic  existence."  They  were  now 
either  fantastically  ludicrous,  or  mournfully  sug- 
gestive, as  one  happened  to  be  in  the  humor  of 
either  laughing  or  moralizing.  These  mutilated 
statues  and  vases  were  all  elevated  on  low  pedestals 
of  brick  and  mason  work,  off  which  the  stucco  had 
crumbled  long  ago,  and  it  had  never  been  renewed. 
So  they  presented  rather  a  spotty  appearance,  except 
in  the  vases,  where  the  luxuriance  of  the  growing 
vines  helped  to  conceal  these  ravages  of  time ;  for 
sometimes  they  overflowed  the  vases  and  clambered 
down  their  sides  and  along  the  pedestals  down  to 
the  very  earth,  where  they  took  root  and  flourished 
vigorously.  Things  do  grow  so  fast  in  Louisiana. 
Docteur  Canonge's  old  gardener  could  never  keep 
up  with  them,  no  matter  how  industriously  he 
labored.  He  had  to  rest  a  good  deal  in  the  course 
of  the  day  ;  there  were  pipes  to  be  smoked  full  of 
good  perrique,  and  there  was  also  a  siesta  to  be  taken 


IN     THE     ATTAKAPAS.  31 

every  afternoon.  Therefore  vines  and  weeds  did 
grow  rather  as  they  chose  in  this  garden.  It  was 
all  the  nicer  for  that. 

The  house  itself  was  shadowed  by  its  long,  )vide 
verandahs.  It  was  a  low,  one-storied  building.  It 
was  painted  outside  of  a  brick-dust  red — the  red  of 
Titian,  which  is  prettier  on  the  mantle  of  the  "  Bella 
donna"  than  it  was  on  DocteurCanonge's  house — and 
it  had  solid  green  blinds,  hung  with  white  facings  to 
the  numerous  doors  and  windows  cut  down  to  the 
verandah  floors.  Fortunately  the  paint  was  old,  so 
Nature,  with  her  gradating  fingers,  had  toned  it 
down  comfortably  from  its  original  brilliant  hues, 
with  fine  black  weather  stains,  and  lovely  spottings 
of  good  wholesome  dark  chocolate -brown  earth 
color. 

It  looked  very  well  now,  amidst  its  vast  setting 
of  yellowish,  green  prairie,  and  dome  of  blue  sky. 

Amidst  all  the  other  birds,  the  mocking-birds 
reigned  supremely  over  this  garden.  They  fought 
and  mocked  all  the  other  birds,  and  they  ate  the 
butterflies  and  the  caterpillars,  and  pecked  the  fruit, 
especially  the  ripest  figs  and  the  sunniest  side  of  the 
peaches.  They  devoured  as  many  scuppernong 
grapes  as  they  chose,  and  always  ate  up  the  earliest 
peas  and  strawberries.  The  gardener  complained 
and  Lizbette  quarrelled,  but  Docteur  Canonge  said 
the  mocking-birds  were  not  to  be  touched  or  fright- 
ened by  any  one  whilst  they  lived  upon  his  premises. 


32  PANOLA. 

"So,"  LIzbette  said,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
"  the  foot  of  the  docteur  was  put  down  in  regard  to 
those  birds."  It  was  more  than  Lizbette  dared  to 
do,  to  disturb  a  nest,  even  though  an  aggravating 
pair  had  built  in  the  orange  tree  over  her  own  cham- 
ber window,  and  often  kept  her  awake  half  the 
moonlight  nights,  singing  and  imitating  the  very 
cries  and  duckings  even  of  her  own  chickens,  and 
anything  else  they  took  a  fancy  to  mock.  Ah !  it 
was  indeed  exasperating;  but  then,  the  docteur's 
foot  was  down,  and  it  had  to  be  borne  with  such 
patience  as  a  Creole  cook  could  gather  together. 

This  very  morning,  Lizbette  had  seen  Natika 
Jacquimin,  the  old  docteur's  granddaughter,  now 
on  a  visit  to  him,  leaning  on  the  balustrade  of  the 
verandah  for  a  whole  half-hour,  extremely  amused 
in  watching  the  birds'  antics.  It  was  a  triumph  to 
keep  Natika  intei'ested  so  long  a  time  as  that ;  but 
the  feathered  songsters  were  unconscious  of  their 
glory ;  they  were  dancing  together,  turning  somer- 
saults in  the  air,  singing  away  like  little  possessed 
demons,  unmindful  of  the  beautiful  girl  who  was 
patiently  watching  their  pranks. 

"Chee-chee,"  said  Lizbette,  "always  a  cheeing 
and  a  screeching,  and  a  dancing  like  mad ;  and  good 
for  nuthin ' ;  not  even  fit  for  a  pie,  which  doves  is, 
and  even  yellow-hammers  ain't  bad  for  a  broil ! " 

Natika  had  been  laughing  heartily,  and  she  called 
aloud  to  her  two  cousins,  who  were  sitting  quietly 


IN     TUE    ATTAKAPAS.  33 

inside  of  the  study,  to  look  out  at  the  birds.  There 
was  a  young  bird  who  seemed  to  be  taking  his  first 
sincrino;  lessons.  He  had  been  attracted  bv  the  soft, 
sweet  cry  of  a  partridge,  and  he  was  trying  to  imitate 
it.  He  did  not  succeed  well.  An,  older  bird,  who 
was  sitting  on  top  of  the  head  of  a  broken-nosed 
plaster  Apollo,  attempted  to  put  the  little  bird  right 
in  the  siuo-ine^:  the  wilful  little  bird  either  couldn't 
or  wouldn't  follow  the  notes  accurately.  Another 
bird,  balancing  himself  on  an  orange  bough,  quiver- 
ins;  his  wing's  and  vibratins;  his  tail  fan-fashion, 
sending  down  at  every  trill  a  rain  of  spent  blossoms 
upon  Lizbette's  sheets,  was  singing  very  heroically, 
loudly  mocking  the  clear  bell-like  call  of  the  troop- 
iall ;  it  had  come  across  some  stray  wanderer  from 
the  tropics,  blown  over  from  some  of  the  islands  in 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  by  an  unexpected  "  ouragan," 
and,  as  is  the  fashion  of  its  tribe,  it  had  picked  up 
the  sin  ovular  foreio:n  notes. 

The  partridge  sang  '^  Bob  white "  in  a  long 
modulation ;  the  little  bird  would  snatch  up  the  cry, 
"  Bob,  bob,  bob ;  white,  white,  bob." 

"  Xo,  no,"  the  older  bird  sung  from  the  Apollo's 
head  ;  "  this  way:  bob  white,  bob  white." 

"  AVhy-et,  vrhy-et,  bob,  bob,"  would  answer  the 
small  bird  on  the  garden  walk.  Again  and  again 
the  older  bird  would  sing  the  strain. 

The  little  bird,  turning  its  head  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other,  would  listen  carefully  and 
2 


o 


4  PANOLA. 


make  ineffectual  efforts  to  utter  the  right  cadence ; 
but  at  last,  seeming  to  grow  weary  of  its  abortive 
efforts,  and  impatient  of  its  lesson,  it  flew  off  on  to  a 
Laurier  d'amaude  bush,  and  standing  up  on  its  tip-toes, 
with  its  wings  outspread,  and  its  head  and  tail  tossed 
upwards,  it  sung  vehemently  after  its  own  fashion : 
"  Bob,  bob ;  why-et,  why-et ;  sweetie,  sweetie,  chee, 
chee;  come  to  the  wood;  come,  come,  bob;"  then, 
trilling  on  every  syllable,  it  seemed  to  play  on  the 
notes  with  au  appoggiatura  before  each  word,  as  if  to 
say,  "  how  are  ye^  bob?  how  are  ye,  why-et?''  then, 
suddenly  seizins:  the  easier  strain,  it  closed  its  musical 
phrase  with  the  three  clear,  pure  bell -notes  "of  the 
troopiall.  It  had  its  own  notion  of  rendering  music. 
Katika  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands  lightly. 
^^  Bravo  !  bravo !  you  naughty,  funny  little  bird ! " 
she  cried. 

Her  cousins,  Victor  Burthe  and  Mark  Boiling, 
smiled  at  her  eagerness. 

The  cousins  had  been  sitting;  tosiether  in  the 
study,  whose  tall  windows  were  widely  opened  down 
to  the  verandah.  Natika  stepped  back  into  the 
room.  Mark  Boiling  was  reading  a  letter  which  a 
servant  had  just  brought  in  to  him,  he  said,  by 
order  of  his  grandfather,  Docteur  Canonge.  Mark's 
face  changed  from  its  smile  as  he  read  the  letter 
through  carefully;  then,  turning  it  again,  re-read 
the  first  page.  He  then  handed  it  to  Victor,  saying, 
q^uietly : 


IN    THE    ATTAKAPAS.  35 

"  Uncle  Jacob  is  dead  in  Xew  York.  This  letter 
concerns  you  both,  as  well  as  myself." 

It  was  a  large  letter,  and  it  contained  an  enclos- 
ure written  on  foolscap,  very  closely  covering  all 
four  sides  of  the  sheet.  Mark  now  set  himself  to 
read  the  enclosed  foolscap. 

"Victor  held  the  letter,  and  Xatika,  leaning  over 
his  shoulder,  read  it  at  the  same  time  that  he  did. 
Victor  gave  utterance  to  a  low  whistle  of  surprise 
and  seeming  vexation  as  he  laid  the  letter  down, 
which  ran  as  follows  : 

"Xew  Orleans,  18 — . 

"  Mr.  Mark  Bollixg  :  Sir  : — We  have  been  re- 
quested by  the  trustees  appointed  in  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  your  late  uncle,  JNlr.  Jacob 
Canonge,  to  write  to  you,  and  to  enclose  a  certified 
copy  of  said  will  and  testament  of  said  Jacob 
Canonge.  Said  will  is  a  holograph  instrument, 
and  is  perfect  according  to  law  of  Louisiana,  being 
written,  signed  and  sealed  by  said  testator.  It  has 
been  duly  recorded  by  said  trustees,  and  the  succes- 
sion is  now  duly  opened  according  to  law.  The 
said  will  is  somewhat  peculiar  in  its  terms  and 
conditions  of  bequest,  which,  of  course,  we  regret ; 
but,  although  the  said  late  Jacob  Canonge  was  re- 
garded as  rather  eccentric  in  character,  his  sound 
health  and  sanity  were  never  questioned,  and  he 
was  considered  to  be  singularly  shrewd  in  all  prac- 
tical business  matters.     His  physicians — the  Doc- 


36  PANOLA. 

tors  Stone  and  Itoussel — testify  to  his  admirable 
soundness  of  mind  up  to  the  very  last  moments  of 
existence.  The  injunctions  of  the  will,  therefore, 
must  be  fully  obeyed.  The  trustees — Messrs. 
Adams,  James  and  Slocumb — unite  with  us  in 
hoping  that  you  may  soon  be  restored  to  the  health 
and  happy  condition  of  life,  which  said  will  de- 
mands of  you  before  they  can  resign  to  you  the  con- 
trol of  the  vast  wealth,  designed  for  your  inherit- 
ance by  your  late  uncle,  said  late  Jacob  Canonge. 
Together  with  this,  please  find  notices  to  the  other 
heirs — ]\Ir.  Victor  Burthe  and  Miss  Natika  Jac- 
quimin — of  their  unconditioned  bequests  from  their 
late  uncle,  said  late  Jacob  Canonge,  which  bequests 
are  in  the  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
each,  said  money  being  now  on  deposit  in  the  Canal 
Bank  of  New  Orleans,  subject  to  their  order  at  sight. 
Please  also  find  list  and  vouchers  of  said  divers 
moneys,  bequeathed  conditionally  to  you  by  said  late 
Jacob  Canonge — said  moneys  amounting,  as  shown 
and  exhibited  by  said  vouchers,  to  the  sum  of  three 
millions  five  hundred  thousand  and  forty-five  dol- 
lars and  fifty-five  cents,  which  is  already  well  and 
sufficiently  invested  by  said  late  Jacob  Canonge,  as 
shown  by  said  vouchers.  All  to  be  subject  to  your 
order  under  certain  conditions,  as  set  forth  in  said 
last  will  and  testament  of  said  late  Jacob  Canonge. 
"  You  will  be  so  good  as  to  notify  us  where  and 
when  you  desire  to  be  deposited  the  annual  pay- 


IN    THE     ATTAKAPAS.  37 

meDts  of  the  sum  of  three  huDdred  dollars,  always 
payable  iu  gold,  the  amount  specified  as  a  temporary 
provision  for  you  uutil  the  aforesaid  conditions  be 
filled  as  demanded  by  said  last  will  and  testament 
of  said  late  Jacob  Cauouge.  It  is  now  subject  to 
your  order. 

''  With  profound  respect,  we  have  the  honor  to 
subscribe  ourselves  your  most  obedient  servants, 
*'  Bradford  and  Bradford, 

"Att'ys-at-Law,  20  Custom  House  street, 

"New  Orleans,  Louisiana." 

'^  Here's  the  will,"  said  Mark,  handing  the  long 
bit  of  foolscap  he  had  been  reading  to  Victor. 

"  It  is  a  shame !  The  very  meanest  will  that 
ever  any  old  man  made  !  That's  my  opinion  of  it," 
exclaimed  iSTatika,  indignantly,  tossing  back,  with 
her  fair,  white,  jewelled  hand,  the  heavy  ringlets 
that  had  fallen  forward  over  her  face  as  she  leaned 
over  Victor's  shoulder  reading  the  portentous 
papers. 

"  He  was  a  mean,  crabbed  old  hunks,  any  how ! 
I  always  did  think  so,"  said  Victor.  "He  has 
been  too  good  to  us,  who  did  not  need  his  dirty 
money.  But,  to  treat  poor  Mark  in  that  tantalizing 
fashion  !  It  is  downright  wicked  !  I  hope  the  old 
fellow  will  be  put  through  three  millions  of  ages  in 
purgatory  for  his  malice  !  As  if  it  was  Mark's  fault 
that  he  can't  walk  !     Oh,  le  vieil  diable  !  " 


38  PANOLA. 

"  Le  viell  Adam !  ^'  added  Xatika,  laiighiDg  at 
Victor's  violence. 

"  Oh,  no!  "  said  Mark,  "iin  pauvre  vieux  homme. 
Not  the  man  of  sin  or  the  old  devil  either.'' 

"Yes !  He  loas  an  old  devil,"  said  Natika,  reso- 
lutely. "As  for  me,  I  intend  to  divide  with  you, 
Mark.  I  shall  write  instantly  to  those  tiresome 
lawyers.  I  shall  not  remain  a  party  to  such  mean- 
ness as  that ! "  Here  Natika  violently  stamped  her 
small  foot  in  its  black  satin  slipper. 

"  I  have  plenty  of  money  of  my  own  without  this, 
and  so  also  has  Victor.  I  never  did  like  uncle 
Jacob.  His  nose  was  crooked,  and  his  chin  too, 
and  he  looked  exactly  like  those  misers  in  Quentin 
Matsys'  picture.  Don't  you  remember,  Victor? 
And  how  I  used  to  cry  at  the  sight  of  him  when  I 
w^as  so  little,  and  he  glowered  at  me  through  his  old 
black-rimmed  spectacles  !  I  hate  spectacles,  and  I 
hate  misers.  Mark  is  the  only  one  of  us  that  ever 
w^as  decently  respectful  to  uncle  Jacob. 

"  Don't  you  remember  how  you  sketched  his  pro- 
file on  the  vvall  one  night  with  a  bit  of  charcoal, 
when  he  came  to  see  aunt  Burthe,  Victor  ?  It  was 
a  very  good  likeness.  Aunt  Burthe  scolded,  but 
uncle  Jacob  laughed  at  it  and  said  you  ought  to 
be  made  a  painter  of,  and  offered  to  pay  for  your 
instruction  in  art.  We  don't  deserve  one  cent  from 
uncle  Jacob,  and  I  sha'n't  take  it.  Victor  may  do 
as  he  likes,  but  I  shall  not  take  the  money.     I  hate 


IN     THE    ATTAKAPAS.  39 

uncle  Jacob ! ''  added  she,  passionately.  "  I  am 
glad  he  is  dead.  He  should  not  have  been  let  to 
live  so  loug.  Just  to  die  and  make  people  so  very 
unhap2)y  as  he  has  done  now  !" 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,  Natika/'  said  Mark 
Boiling,  passing  his  hand  wearily  over  his  forehead 
and  eyes,  leaning  back  helplessly  in  his  invalid's 
chair.  "  But  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  take 
such  advantage  of  your  generosity.  I  can't  receive 
anything  but  the  three  hundred  per  annum  that 
uncle  Jacob  has  seen  fit  to  give  to  me.  Of  course 
the  rest  of  the  estate  will  remain  intact  and  accumu- 
late during  ray  unfortunate  existence  for  ^  the 
Charity.'  In  all  human  probability  I  can  never 
claim  it.  It  is  not  probable ;  ah,  it  is  scarcely  even 
possible,  that  I  shall  ever  be  able  ^  to  2valk/  still 
less  that  I  should  ever  be  so  fortunate  as  '  to  marry/ 
as  the  will  requires  I  should,  before  I  can  claim  the 
millions  uncle  Jacob  has  left  behind  him.  Indeed, 
the  money  would  be  of  small  value  to  me,  if  the 
qualities  needed  to  possess  it  were  ever  mine.  Oh, 
if  I  could  ever  hope  to  walk  again !  If  I  could 
ever  dare  to  think  of  love  as  other  men  do !  I  shoujd 
care  but  little  for  money.  But  to  be  so  helpless,  so 
dependent ! " 

Mark   sighed    deeply.      "And  alas !   so   y^ng,'' 

added  he,  with  a  smile  of  bitter  sadness.     "  t  shall 

J- 

have  to  live  a  long  time  yet,  I  fear." 

Natika's  eyes  filled  with  large  tears,  as  she;  looked 


40  PANOLA. 

at  Mark.  He  was  so  handsome,  so  attractive  m 
person  and  character ;  and  he  sat  there  helpless 
as  the  prince  of  the  black  isles  in  the  fairy  tale. 
His  lower  limbs  still  perfect  in  outline,  and  yet 
utterly  useless  and  apparently  immovable.  Mark 
was  paralyzed  from  the  waist  downward ;  yet  there 
was  no  appearance  of  wasting  away  in  his  fignre. 
He  was  a  picture  of  manly  health  and  beauty  as  he 
sat  still  in  his  chair  before  her  eyes. 

"Confound  it!"  exclaimed  Victor  Burlhe, spring- 
ing up  and  kicking  Natika's  white  poodle  out  of 
his  way,  as  he  strode  up  to  Mark  and  seized  his 
hand  in  both  of  his.  "  I  say,  Mark,"  continued 
Victor,  unmindful  of  the  yelping  of  the  poodle,  or 
of  the  angry  exclamation  of  Natika  at  its  treatment, 
or  her  ineffectual  attempts  to  console  her  dog's  in- 
jured feelings. 

"  I  say,  Mark !  (For  heaven's  sake,  Natika,  do 
stop  that  wretched  beast's  mouth !  Choke  him.)  I 
say,  Mark,  be  reasonable  now,  and  let  us  divide, 
Natika  and  I.     Let  us  throw  it  all  into  three  parts 

and  each  take  one,  and  let  the  rest  go  to  the  d d 

Charity,  according  to  the  will." 

"Oh,  no,  Victor!"  replied  Mark,  firmly,  pressing 
Victor's  hand.  "It  is  utterly  impossible.  I  cannot; 
believe  I  am  not  ungrateful,  however,  to  you  and  to 
Natika,"and  Mark  held  out  his  other  hand  to  Xatika. 
She  put  down  the  poodle,  whose  cries  had  gradually 
subsided  under  her  caresses,  and  took  Mark's  hand 


IN     THE     ATT  AK  A  PAS.  41 

in  hers.  Mark  drew  her  to  him,  and  held  up  his 
mouth  to  kiss  her. 

Natika  kissed  him — her  face  flushed  crimson  as 
her  lips  met  his,  but  she  said  nothing.  Mark  put 
his  arm  around  her  waist  as  she  stood  by  him,  and 
clasped  Victor's  hand  yet  more  strongly. 

"  Dear  cousins  mine,"  said  ]\Iark,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  emotion,  *'  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I 
feel  your  love  and  kindness.  You  must  not  think 
me  obstinate  or  proud,  but  I  canH  take  your  money. 
In  truth,  so  long  as  grandfather  Canonge  lives,  I 
want  for  nothing,  and  even  the  three  hundred  per 
annum  is  superfluous.  I  need  very  little  now, 
though  I  have  cost  grandfather  a  great  deal  in 
travelling  about,  and  experimenting  with  surgeons 
and  doctors  all  over  the  world ;  but  I  have  giv^en  it 
all  up.  ]\Iy  trip  to  Germany  this  past  summer 
ended  it.  I  have  tried  every  thing,  and  gone  every- 
where, to  everybody.  It  comes  to  nothing.  The 
same  old  opinion  reiterated  again  and  again.  They 
all  say  :  ^At  any  moment  it  is  possible  the  power  to 
walk  may  return  as  suddenly  as  you  lost  it.  But  it 
must  come  from  a  rush  of  internal  vital  force.  The 
paralyzed  nerve  cannot  be  reached  by  any  external 
n^eut  or  remedy.' " 

^' You  have  tried  electricity  and  every  thing?" 
said  Victor  Burthe,  interrogatively. 

"And  the  faith  doctor  and  mesmerism  ?  "  added 
Natika. 


42'  PANOLA. 

Mark  smiled  sadly.  "  I  have  tried  every  thing, 
however  absurd,  or  superstitious,  or  scientific !  What 
matters  it  to  me  what  restores  me,  so  I  am  restored?" 

"Old  Nana  says  you  are  ^conjured,'"  said  Xati- 
ka,  half  smiling,  half  weeping,  at  Mark's  sad  tones. 

"  I  wish  it  was  really  so,"  replied  Mark,  with  a 
laugh.  "There  would  be  some  hope  of  getting 
imconjured,  even  if  I  had  to  seek  the  Vaudoo  queen 
herself." 

"That  would  be  Nana,  then,"  said  Natika.  "She 
is  the  queen !  She  keeps  a  tame  snake  in  the 
gourd,  and  feeds  it  on  milk,  Lizbette  says.  All 
the  negroes  believe  in  her  power,  and  are  dreadfully 
afraid  of  her." 

"  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  of  Nana,  that  old  hag," 
exclaimed  Victor.  "  I  should  be  more  afraid  of 
her  friend  and  mistress,  your  elegant  stepmother, 
Mrs.  Frances  Boiling,  ISIark.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  I  do  dislike  that  woman  ! " 

"Oh,  no,  Victor!"  replied  Mark.  "My  step- 
mother is  not  a  bad  woman.  She  has  had  no  control 
over  me  since  I  was  twelve  years  of  age.  You  know 
grandfather  Canonge  took  me  soon  after  my  father's 
second  marriage,  and  this  paralysis  came  on  while  I 
w^as  at  college.  I  went  out  to  take  a  sleigh  ride 
one  cold  winter's  day,  got  upset,  had  inflammatory 
rheumatism,  and  have  never  walked  since.  That's 
the  whole  story." 

"  Mrs.  Boiling  was  therCj  and  nursed  you  while 


IN     THE     ATTAKAPAS.  43 

vou  were  ill,"  said  Victor.  *'  She  is  a  bad  woman,  I 
iLiuk.  I  never  believed  in  her,  somehow ;  but  I 
don't  exactly  know  how  she  could  put  you  into  such 
a  condition  as  this." 

^'She  was  extremely  kind  to  me,"  said  Mark, 
o-ravely.  "  Such  expressions  about  her  annoy  me, 
Victor.  I  know  how  strong  your  prejudices  are, 
and  that  you  dislike  my  stepmother,  so  don't  let  us 
talk  of  her." 

"She  is  very  handsome,  and  extremely  agreeable," 
said  Natika.  "I  like  her  very  much,  though  I 
have  only  seen  her  a  few  times,  when  I  was  here 
before  on  a  visit  to  grandfather  Canonge.  I  sup- 
pose she  will  come  to  see  me  soon,  Mark." 

"I  suppose  she  will,  Natika.  I  sent  word  to 
Mrs.  Flauoy's  family  to-day  that  you  were  here." 

"I  have  been  here  a  week  now,"  said  Natika. 
"A  whole  week." 

"A  whole  week,"  said  Victor,  mimicking  her  in- 
flection of  voice.  "What  an  eternity  for  a  Parisian 
belle  to  waste  in  this  dull  country  !  I  wonder  you 
survive  it,  Natika.'^ 

"  I  suppose  decency  requires  of  me  to  see  my 
grandfather  occasionally,  Victor,  as  it  also  impels 
you  to  come  and  '  waste  your  sweetness  on  this 
desert  air,'  at  least  once  in  ten  years,  for  a  few  days. 
Think  of  poor  ^lark  having  to  live  here  all  the 
time,  and  blush  for  your  self-indulgence." 

"The  truth  is,  I  am   very  soon   bored   in  the 


44  PANOLA. 

country,"  res2:)0iKlecl  Victor.  "  I  don't  care  much 
for  shooting  and  fishing,  and  I  like  to  talk  to  men 
better  than  to  trees,  and  I  had  rather  listen  to  Grisi 
and  Mario  than  to  bird-singing." 

''And  you  had  rather  flirt  with  a  pretty  woman 
than  to  do  any  thing  else,"  rejoined  Natika. 

"Yes,  I  believe,  ^that's  a  true  bill,'  as  the  law- 
yers phrase  it,  Xatika,"  replied  Victor,  gayly,  cast- 
ing an  involuntary  glance  at  his  own  reflection  in 
the  mirror  opposite.  Xatika's  quick  eye  caught  the 
rapid  glance  of  vanity.  She  clapped  her  hands 
lightly,  as  if  encoring  a  favorite  maestro  at  the 
opera  house,  laughing,  as  she  exclaimed — 

''  Vive  !  vive !  Monsieur  Xarcisse  !  You  are  a 
handsome  fellow,  Victor.  You  have  the  beautiful 
dark  eves  of  the  Canoncres,  and  their  fine  strai^rht 
features ;  but  so  has  Mark,  and  you  have  not  got 
the  intellect  of  the  Boilings;  and  that  makes  a  dif- 
ference in  the  expression,  though  most  women  would 
not  find  that  out." 

"Pshaw,  Natika,"  said  Victor.  "You  can't 
make  me  jealous  of  Mark,  so  you  need  uot  try  that 
game,  Miss  Flash." 

"Miss  Flash!  What  is  that?"  asked  Mark, 
smilino^  at  the  rencontre  of  his  cousins. 

"Oh,  a  sobriquet  that  the  Americans  in  Paris 
gave  to  Natika,"  Victor  said,  carelessly.  "  She  is 
so  capricious  and  scintillating  and  brilliant  in  her 
w^ays  and  conversation." 


IN     THE     ATTAKAPAS.  45 

Katika  bit  her  lip— then  she  laup^hcd,  but  there 
was  no  heartiness  in  the  laugli.  "  Don't  be  stupid, 
Victor.  I  don't  mind  ill  nature,  but  I  can't  bear 
stupidity.     It  bores  me,  especially  in  the  country. 

"  ^la'rk,"  she  continued,  throwing  herself  grace- 
fully upon  the  lounge  near  his  chair,  picking  up 
her  poodle  and  fondling  it,  as  she  reclined  on  the 
soft  cushions;  ''Mark,  what  has  become  of  that 
frightful  boy  of  your  stepmother's?— her  son  by  the 
first  marriage?     What  was  his  name?" 

''Antony  Coolidge,  do  you  mean  ?  ^'  asked  Mark. 

"  Yes." 

"He  is  still  at  St.  Louis  practising  law,  I  believe. 
He  comes  here  sometimes  to  see  his  mother." 

"He  was  a  very  ugly  boy,"  remarked  Natika. 
"He  had  real  African  features,  though  he  had  blue 
eyes    and  sandy   hair.      He   looked   like   a   white 

negro — " 

"  So  he  is,"  interrupted  Victor.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  ]\Iark,  but  every  body  knows  that  ]Mrs. 
Boiling  was  only  the  natural  half-sister  of  IMajor 
Flanoy.  Old  Governor  Flanoy  acknowledged  her, 
and,  according  to  the  French  law,  legitimized  her. 
But  her  mother  was  a  quadroon,  you  know,  so 
Antony  Coolidge  is  only  a  reversion,  according  to 
the  natural  law  of  Genesis,  to  tlie  original  type  of 
his  grandmother's  race.     It  is  atavlsmJ' 

Mark  frowned,  but  did  not  contradict  the  state- 
ment of  Victor.     He  knew  it  to  bo  true. 


46  PANOLA. 

"I  like  pure  blood,"  said  Natika,  "even  in  my 
dogs.  Fanfan  is  a  highly  bred  poodle.  See  how 
delicate  she  is."  And  she  held  up  the  poodle's 
paw. 

"  Yoiv  forget,  Natika,"  said  Mark,  quietly,  "  that 
the  Boll  in  ss  are  descendants  of  Pocahontas.  So 
that  /have  a  strain  of  Indian  in  my  blood." 

"Oh,  that's  very  different!"  said  Xatika.  "I 
don't  dislike  such  a  strain  as  that.  It  is  such  a 
different  race  of  people." 

"  You  know  they  say  now  there  was  no  such  per- 
son as  the  Princess  Pocahontas,"  put  in  Victor. 

"  No  such  person  as  Mrs.  Harris,"  said  Xatika, 
laughingly. 

Mark's  handsome  face  crimsoned,  as  he  replied, 
haughtily — 

"  I  suppose  we  know  best  who  are  her  descendants." 

"I  should  think  you  ought  to,"  said  Victor, 
lightly.  "I  don't  quarrel  with  history  or  tradition. 
I  take  it  as  it  is  told  to  me.  I  believe  in  all  of  it. 
In  Xapoleon  and  Pocahontas,  and  Captain  John 
Smith  and  ViHere's  bloody  shirt,  and  every  thing ^ 
enjlnj' 

^'What  a  remarkably  developed  phrenological 
organ  of  credulity !  "  said  Natika. 

"Well!  I  have  to  accept  the  alternative  of  be- 
lieving every  thing  or  believing  nothing,  and  the 
former  state  is  the  pleasantest,  so  I  adopt  it,"  replied 
Victor,  sitting  himself  down  upon  the  footstool  by 


IN     THE     ATTAKAPAS.  47 

Xatik.Vs  sofa.  "  I  don't  even  doubt  you^  Xatlka, 
when  you  tell  me  you  never  coquette,  and  are  never 
inconstant  to  nos  jyremicrs  amours J^ 

Natika  made  a  "  mou  "  at  him. 

"  U  you  do  that  again  I  shall  kiss  you,  Natika,'' 
said  Victor,  resolutely.  ^'  I  have  as  good  a  right  to 
kiss  you  as  jNIark  has."  And  there  came  a  sudden 
vivid  flash  in  Victor's  eyes. 

"  No  !  you  haven't,  because  you  are  not  so  good 
as  Mark,''  replied  Xatika.  *^\.nd  besides" — she 
paused — 

"And  besides,"  repeated  Victor,  looking  sharply 
at  her. 

*Mnd  besides,"  continued  Xatika,  smoothing  her 
doix's  silken  ears,  "  I  am  not  as  fond  of  you  as  I  am 
of  my  cousin  Mark,"  and  she  glanced  at  him 
defiantly. 

Victor  looked  steadily  at  her.  Her  eyes  did  not 
fall.     She  looked  as  steadily  back  into  his. 

"Don't  try  to  make  a  heros  de  Boiaan  of  your- 
self, Victor,"  she  remarked.  "  It  is  purely  absurd 
and  a  g-reat  waste  of  *  materiel ! '  " 

"I  know  you  think  so,  Natika,"  Victor  replied. 
"Mark,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Mark,  wdio  had 
been  sitting  with  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  apparently 
unconscious  of  the  by-play  of  talk  between  his  cousins, 
"Mark,  wdiat  has  become  of  Mryor  Flanoy's  only 
daughter,  that  little  white  creature — nearly  an 
Albino — that  used  to  come  here  so  often,  prowling 
about  you  ?  " 


48  PANOLA. 

"  Who  ?  Major  Flanoy's  daughter  ?  "  asked  Mark, 
starting  up  to  a  more  erect  position  in  his  chair  and 
dropping  his  hand  from  his  eyes. 

*'  Oh,  you  mean  Panola.  Yes,  she  was  very  fair. 
She  is  grown  up  now.'' 

"  Her  hair  it  was  lint-white, 
Her  skin  it  was  snow-white, 
Bright  was  the  flash  of  her  bhie,  rolling  e'e," 

sang  Victor,  remodelling  Burns  to  suit  his  own 
ideas  ;  then  he  went  on  : 

"She  was  uncanny,  Mark,  that  child.  She  was 
so  white  altoo-ether." 

"Therefore  she  was  justly  named  Paxola,"  said 
Mark. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  asked  Xatika.  "  It  is 
a  queer  name." 

"  It  means  '  cotton,'  "  replied  Mark.  "  It  is  the 
Indian  name  for  cotton.  Mrs.  Flanoy  is  a  half- 
breed  Cherokee,  one  of  the  Ross  family.  Major 
Flanoy  was  in  the  army,  stationed  on  the  frontier  of 
the  Indian  Nation.  He  married  his  wife  there. 
She  was  very  pretty,  and  well  educated  at  Mrs. 
AVillard's  school  in  Troy.  The  major  got  most  of 
his  fortune  by  her — she  was  rich.  Panola  is  their 
only  child  ;  therefore  an  heiress." 

"  ^\niat  a  singular  family  those  Flanoys  must  be  ! 
so  much  miscegenation  among  them,"  observed 
Xatika. 

"  They  are  peculiar,  or  rather  were,  since  they  are 


THE     HEROINE.  40 

all  (lead  now  except  Panola  and  her  mother.  The 
major  died  last  year.  The  old  governor  must  have 
had  a  fearful  temper.  He  died  from  breaking  a 
bloodvessel  in  a  fit  of  rage.'' 

"Is  this  creature — this  Albino,  as  Victor  calls 
her — like  them,  or  like  her  Indian  ancestors  ? " 
asked  Natika,  yawning  in  a  suppressed  well-bred 
way,  as  she  pushed  her  poodle  oif  her  lap  and  sat 
ujiright  on  the  sofa. 

"  She  is  like — "  began  ^lark,  when  the  door  was 
suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a  servant  entered,  an- 
nouncing "  Miss  Flauoy,  blaster  Mark." 


CHAPTEP.    11. 

THE     HETwOIXE. 

VICTOR  BURTHE  sprang  up  from  his  low 
seat  at  Natika's  feet,  and  bowed  instinctively 
as  the  young  girl  entered  the  door.  Panola  paused 
for  an  instant,  struck  aback  at  the  unexpected  sight 
of  strangers  in  Mark's  private  sitting-room ;  for, 
though  she  was  aware  that  Mark's  cousins  were 
guests  of  Docteur  Canonge  at  this  time,  the  servant 
had  awkwardly  conducted  her,  without  notification, 
into  their  presence. 
3 


50  PANOLA. 

It  was  only  an  instant  that  Panola  hesitated  ;  bnt 
that  was  long  enough  for  Natika  and  Victor,  with 
their  practised  eyes  of  society,  to  take  an  inventory 
of  her  charms.  The  quick  dilation  of  Victor's  eyes, 
and  the  sudden  compressure  of  Natika's  full,  red 
lips,  showed  surprise,  and,  in  one  of  them,  vexation, 
at  the  vision  suddenly  presented  to  their  well-bred 
but  rather  insolent  gaze.  "  Resplendence  of  beauty ,'' 
thouo-ht  Victor.     "  Where's  the  little  Albino  ?  " 

O 

"  What  a  complexion  !  "  thought  Xatika. 

The  first  impression  Panola  induced  was  a  per- 
ception of  perfect  bodily  healthfulness.  No  young 
Spartan  maiden,  dancing  before  Parthenope,  was 
ever  more  symmetrical  in  form,  more  graceful  in  her 
poses,  than  was  Panola.  In  the  picturesque  words  of 
her  mother's  people,  "  Panola  was  straight  as  a  young 
ash  tree ;  flexible  as  the  reed  by  the  river's  side  ;  her 
skin  was  white  as  a  cotton-flake ;  her  lips  were  red 
as  the  berries  of  the  fire-free ;  her  eyes  were  blue  as 
the  waters  of  the  great  lakes;  her  hair  was  golden 
as  the  silk  of  the  maize ;  her  cheeks  were  pink  as 
the  sunset  clouds  ;  she  walked  with  the  lightness  of 
the  panther  and  the  swiftness  of  the  red  deer ;  her 
form  had  the  graceful  swaying  motion  of  the  wind- 
waved,  gray  moss  upon  tlie  trees  of  the  forest,  and 
vrhen  she  laughed,  it  was  like  the  silver  sounds  of 
falling  waters."  This  was  the  description  of 
Panola  that  "Cherokee  Joe"  gave  once  to  his  chief, 
her    mother's    cousin^   the    great   Satana.     Victor 


THE     HEROINE.  131 

thought  it  was  a  very  pretty  tableau,  as  Panola 
stood  motionless,  with  the  intense  quiescence  of  an 
Indian,  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway. 

Panola  was  dressed  very  simply.     A  gown,  cut 
a  la  Gabrielle,  fitted  close  to  her  perfect  figure.    She 
wore  a  scarf  of  brilliant  blue  stuff,  pinned  squarely 
around   her  shoulders,  more  in  the  fashion  of  an 
Indian  blanket  than  in  the  usual  style  of  a  Scotch 
plaid.     The  gold   brooch,  which  held   the   square 
bkie   mantle  in  position,  was  made  into  the  totem 
of  her  mother's  family.     It  was  a  capital  imitation, 
in  enamel  of  black  and  gold,  of  a  coiled  rattlesnake, 
with  head  thrust  out  to  strike.     The  snake's  eyes 
were  of  large  diamonds ;  its  tongue  encrusted  with 
small  rubies;  they  glittered  fiercely  in  the  sun  rays. 
Panola  wore  a  jaunty  little  hat,  trimmed  with  blue 
ribands,  surmounted  by  the  i)lumes  from  the  wings 
of  the  white  crane,  and  these  delicate  feathers  were 
fastened  in  place  by  an  aigrette,  similar  to  her  snake 
brooch,  of  gold  and  diamonds.     The   two   snakes 
seemed   almost  alive,   they   were   so  admirable   in 
workmanship.    She  had  on  gloves  of  pearl-gray  kid, 
and  her  little,  highly-arched  feet,  set  straight  on  her 
path  as  she  walked,  were  fitted  with  tiny  bronzed 
boots,  without  heels,  of  Tournelle's  finest  make.    She 
walked  swiftly,  straight  and  noiselessly,  as  her  an- 
cestors did  when  they  slipped  lightly  through  the 
pathless  forests,  ages  and  ages  before  her  coming. 
Panola  held  a  small  basket  in  one  hand,  and  she 


^2  PANOLA. 

carried  a  gold-mounted  driving-whip  in  the  other. 
She  caught  Victor's  eye  and  his  glance  of  admira- 
tion. She  smiled  and  nodded  her  small  head  in 
sudden  recognition,  saying  frankly,  "  Mr.  Burthe, 
how  do  you  do  ?  I  have  not  forgotten  you,  though 
I  suspect  you  have  forgotten  me ;  I  was  such  a  little 
child  when  we  last  met.  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
again.'' 

Victor  sprang  forward  with  outstretched  hand, 
eager  to  claim  thp  friendly  recognition.  But  Panola 
only  smiled  and  nodded  gayly  as  she  passed  by  him 
towards  Mark. 

"Panola,  my  cousin.  Miss  Jacquimin,"  said  Mark, 
in  Ills  chair,  waving  his  hand  towards  Xatika. 

Panola  walked  forward  without  pausing,  deposited 
her  whip  and  basket  on  the  table  by  ]\Iark's  side ; 
then,  turning  quite  deliberately  to  Xatika,  putting 
her  hands  together  before  her,  made  a  profound 
and  deep  courtesy,  a  I'Espagnolle.  It  took  quite 
a  minute  to  perform  the  reverence.  The  Spanish 
queen  herself  never  made  it  more  slowly  and  more 
gracefully. 

"She  has  had  a  dancing-master,  at  any  rate," 
thought  Xatika,  as  she  half  rose  and  bowed  with 
careless  Parisian  grace  to  this  strange  girl. 

"She  wouldn't  shake  hands,"  thought  Victor 
Burthe. 

Mark  knew  that  Panola  never  did  offer  her 
Land  to  any  one  whom  she  did  not  specially  love; 


THE     HEROINE.  53 

she  was  very  chary  of  any  personal  demonstration 
towards  any  one.  A  clasp  of  the  hand  meant  a 
great  deal  from  Panola. 

She  positively  rejected  the  small  insincerities  of 
society.  She  was  always  singularly  true,  but  coldly 
polite  to  strangers.  She  rarely  ever  showed  sur- 
prise or  astonishment  at  anything — very  diiferent  in 
that  from  her  present  companions,  who  were  full  of 
French  vivacity,  and  were  continually  "taking 
fire,"  old  Docteur  Cauonge  said,  "at  things  and 
people." 

Natika  looked  amused  as  she  caught  Victor's  eye. 

Victor  could  not  re])ress  a  smile,  in  spite  of  his 
French  courtesy ;  but  Panola  paid  no  further  atten- 
tion to  the  cousins.  She  turned  to  ^lark,  handing 
him  the  small  basket  wreathed  with  fresh  passion- 
flowers. 

"Mark,  here  are  some  fine  pomegranates  that  I 
kept  in  the  greenhouse  to  ripen  for  you.  See  the 
pretty  red  seeds  bursting  through  the  rinds ;  and 
here's  a  bunch  of  monockanock  lilies.  Aren't  they 
sweet?  I  went  out  on  the  lake  in  my  dug-out,  this 
morning,  to  gather  them  myself  " 

"  They  are  lovely,  Panola,"  said  Mark,  extending 
his  hand  for  the  basket.  He  took  out  its  treasures 
one  by  one. 

"Passion-flowers,  ripe  jiomegranates,  at  this 
season  too;  and  monocka  blooms,  sweet  as  the  giver, 
Panola." 


54  PANOLA. 

Panola  laughed  like  a  plcaficd  child.  "  I  like  to 
please  you,  Mark,"  she  said,  frankly,  without  afFcc- 
tation. 

Panola  had  the  low  silverv  lau^rh  as  well  as  the 
flute  voice  of  the  Indian  woman.  ^Nlr.  Ruskin  says 
that  it  requires  "  generations  of  culture  and  refine- 
ment to  render  a  voice  sweet  in  speech ;  "  where, 
then,  do  Indian  women  get  their  proverbially  soft, 
lovely  voices  and  laughter  from  ? 

"Victor,  Natika,  have  a  pomegranate!"  ex- 
claimed Mark.  "  Panola,  won't  you  hand  the 
basket  to  my  cousins,  as  I  can't  ?  " 

Panola  took  up  the  basket  instantly,  and  carried 
it  silently  and  swiftly — her  motions  were  all  swifl 
and  quiet — offering  the  fruit  first  to  Xatika,  then  to 
Victor.  Natika  took  a  pomegranate.  Victor  took 
the  basket  from  Panola  to  replace  it  on  the  table. 

"  No,"  said  Panola,  "  no ;  take  the  fruit.  Mark 
■wished  ?7ie  to  serve  vou.  I  serve  mv  friends  with. 
pleasure." 

Mark  laughed.  "And  what  would  you  do  to 
your  enemies,  Panola?" 

"  I  have  none,"  she  replied ;  "  but  if  I  had — " 
she  paused. 

"Well,  if  you  had?"  asked  Mark. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  I  am  part  CherokeeP 

Victor  thought  Xatika  made  a  very  pretty 
picture,  as  she  sat  eating  her  red  pomegranate  seeds, 
teasing  Fanfau  by  offering  the  fruit  to  her  occasion- 


r- 


T  II  E     II  E  K  0  I  X  E .  bo 

ally.  Fanfan  snifled  at  the  seed,  shaking  her  curly- 
ears  ill  disgust.  Natika  had  all  the  grace  of  a 
Cypriote  and  all  the  ease  of  a  Parisienne. 

"Take  care,  Xatika!  you  will  stain  your  fingers 
"with  that  rind !  '^  exclaimed  Victor.  "  What  an 
absurdity  it  is  to  talk  of  the  romance  of  the  pome- 
granate groves  in  ^Moorish  Spain  !  They  planted 
the  groves  so  as  to  make  tanniu  for  their  leather 
from  the  rinds — Cordovan  leather.  Your  finger- 
tips will  be  tanned,  Xatika.'^ 

"  I  know  very  well  how  to  eat  a  pomegranate, 
Victor.  I  sha'n't  stain  my  fingers.  I  have  not 
forcrotten  evervthinc:  I  ever  knew  before  c:oin2:  to 
Paris  !^' 

"  I  thought  you  Aac?,'^  said  Victor. 

*'  Mark,"  said  Panola,  as  she  replaced  the  basket 
of  fruit  by  his  side,  "  aunt  Boiling  bade  me  say  she 
was  prevented  from  calling  to-day  upon  ^liss  Jac- 
quimin,  on  account  of  the  arrival  of  Antony.  But 
she  will  hope  to  have  that  pleasure  to-morrow." 

'^  Has  Antony  come?"  inquired  i\Iark. 

"  Yes ;  he  arrived  to-day  from  St.  Louis.  "We 
did  not  expect  him,"  said  Panola,  indiiferently.  "  I 
sht)uld  have  been  over  to  see  you  before,  Mark,  but 
mamma  has  been  so  unwell  and  so  sufferinor  this 
week  that  I  could  not  leave  her  until  this  afternoon, 
when  she  is  sleeping,  with  Isobel  to  watch  by  her. 
She  was  so  ill  that  she  sent  a  letter  to  the  Nation  by 
Cherokee  Joe  to  her  cousiuj  the  chief  Sataua.     Joe 


56  PANOLA. 

returned  to-day  and  brought  back  the  reply  to 
mamma's  letter.  She  seemed  so  restless  until  it 
came ;  but  then  she  got  quiet  and  satisfied,  and  went 
to  sleep/' 

"Is  the  chief  coming  here?"  asked  Mark,  with 
interest;  "  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  I  did  not  understand  ;  I  did  not  see  the  letters. 
Joe  wrote  mamma's  in  Cherokee,  at  her  dictation. 
I  was  not  present.  The  reply  was  in  the  same 
tongue.  I  speak  it,  of  course,  it  being  my  mother's 
tongue ;  but  I  don't  write  it  verv  well,  it  is  so  diffi- 
cult.  I  can  spell  out  a  simple  sentence.  It  has  no 
literature  except  translations  from  English  and  other 
tongues,  you  kuow." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Mark ;  *'  but  it  was  a  re- 
markable people  that  could  invent  an  alphabet  and 
a  written  tongue  of  their  own." 

"  Yes ;  Sequoyah  was  a  great  man,"  replied  Panola, 
a  bright  flush  of  pleasure  gliding  over  her  face  and 
neck  as  she  spoke.  Victor  thought  she  was  prettier 
DOW  than  Xatika;  but  just  then  Xatika  moved  into 
a  still  more  graceful  attitude,  and  Victor  remained 
as  undecided  in  opinion  as  Paris  was  once. 

"Natika's  father  was  Greek,"  said  Mark.  "She 
writes  and  speaks  Eomaic  as  well  as  English. 
Victor  is  all  French  Creole,  and  I  am  half  French 
and  half  Eno-lish,  with  a  strain  of  Indian  blood 
in  me." 

"And  /  am  part  Cherokee,  and  my  father's  father 


T  n  E     II  E  R  0  I  N  E  c  67 

was  a  pure  Netherlander,"  said  Panola.  "  What  a 
mixture  of  races  there  is  in  America  I  " 

"J/^  race  is  not  mixed,"  said  Natika,  haughtily; 
*'nor  Victor's  either.  You  can't  call  Greek  and 
French  a  mixture  of  races.  They  arc  both  Aryan 
in  origin." 

"  Not  so  certain,"  said  ^lark,  seeing  the  flash  in 
Panola's  eye,  and  hastening  to  forestall  any  strife 
between  his  guests.  "M.  Quatrefages  declares  that 
the  French  are  not  Aryan  in  orio^in." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  ]\I.  Quatrefages,'^  said  Natika, 
pettishly.  "Victor,  it  is  lovely  in  the  garden.  Let 
us  go  out  for  a  walk,  if  Miss  Flanoy  and  IMark  will 
be  so  good  as  to  excuse  us  for  a  little  while." 

Panola  and  Mark  eagerly  assured  Natika  of  their 
entire  willingness  to  excuse  them  ;  so  Natika  called 
to  Fanfan  to  follow  her,  threw  a  white  scarf  around 
her  shoulders,  and,  nodding  "  au  revoir  "  to  Panola 
and  Mark,  she  stepped  out  of  the  open  French  win- 
dow on  to  the  verandah,  and  thence  into  the  well- 
kept  flower-garden.  Victor  followed  her,  not 
altogether  pleased,  but  true  to  his  old  allegiance. 
Natika  had  ruled  him  since  he  was  twelve  years  of 
age:  indeed,  Natika  had  moulded  Victor's  character. 
She  was  two  years  older  than  he,  and  much  more  intel- 
liorent,  and  had  a  strono-er  will.  When  Victor  was 
with  her  she  controlled  him  most  despotically ;  when 
separated  from  her  he  was  sometimes  rather  re- 
bellious; but  a  line  or  a  word  would  bring  the  truant 


58  PANOLA. 

back  to  her  feet  at  any  moment.  Natika's  power  was  a 
fascination  that  Victor  could  never  resist,  any  more 
than  a  trained  falcon  can  resist  the  call  of  the 
whistle  and  the  waving  of  the  Jessies.  He  belonged 
to  the  animum  rex-ertend ;  the  domesticated  game 
which  must  return  to  its  owner.  He  had  asked 
Katika  to  marry  him  about  twice  in  every  week 
since  he  was  grown  up  to  years  of  majority,  and  liad 
been  as  often  rejected  by  her.  But  her  rejections 
were  so  softened  by  her  natural  coquetry,  that  Vic- 
tor had  never  been  able  to  reduce  his  hopes  to  abso- 
lute despair.  Sometimes  he  would  get  angry  and 
go  away  from  Katika  for  months ;  once  he  stayed 
away  for  nearly  a  year;  then  one  day  he  reappeared 
unexpectedly  before  her  when  she  was  "  having  a 
very  good  time"  in  Paris  under  the  chaperonage  of 
some  French  friends — family  connections  of  the 
Canonizes.  Natika  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  ever 
losing  her  power  over  Victor:  she  whistled  him  hack 
whenever  she  wanted  him.  She  loved  power  ;  slie 
did  not  love  Victor ;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  lose  his 
devotion  and  homage ;  it  was  convenient  for  her,  and 
the  close  relationship  gave  her  an  unlimited  oppor- 
tunity to  treat  him  exactly  as  she  chose — sometimes 
with  tender  affection,  sometimes  with  cold  indiffer- 
ence. Natika  was  that  sort  of  a  woman  who  is  always 
attractive  to  ordinary  men,  and  she  had  usually  a 
small  crowd  of  adorei-s,  chiefly  very  young  men, 
who  were  dazzled   by  her  vivacity,  her  wit,  her 


THE     HEROINE.  59 

intelligence,  and  her  money — for  Xatika  was  rich : 
she  had  thirty  thousand  dollars  2)er  annum  in  her  own 
right,  and  now  she  was  to  receive  this  addition  from 
uncle  Jacob's  will.  Truly  Xatika  was  scarcely  to 
blame  if  she  felt  as  if  she  had  the  world  in  a  sling, 
to  cast  her  throw  where  she  pleased. 

xSatika  was  twenty-seven  years  old  now,  and 
time  will  tell  even  on  the  fairest  face ;  so  she  did 
feel  a  pang  of  jealousy  as  she  confronted  the  fresh 
youth  and  beauty  of  the  seventeen-year-old  Panola. 
Still  she  had  great  advantages  over  Panola.  She 
was  an  accomplished  woman  of  the  world,  with  all 
her  variety  of  fascinations  ;  and  Panola  was  utterly 
simple  and  unformed  in  manner;  indeed  Panola  was 
less  wise  about  social  usages  than  young  girls 
generally  are,  because  her  nature  was  partly  that 
of  the  Indian.  She  was  straightforward,  plain 
and  unpretending,  with  much  of  the  impassive 
quiet  which  she  inherited  from  her  mother.  When 
she  was  in  society  she  rarely  spoke,  unless  some 
one  spoke  to  her.  She  never  volunteered  an 
opinion,  or  a  graceful  jest  or  witticism,  as  her 
French  friends  continually  did ;  she  did  not  under- 
stand how  to  make  a  conversation.  AVhat  she  had 
to  say  she  said  modestly,  but  earnestly  and  firmly. 
She  sat  usually  in  a  state  of  utter  immobility,  excej^t 
for  the  quick  restless  glancing  of  her  blue  eyes, 
which  allowed  nothing  to  escaj^e  their  rapid  gaze. 
She  talked  more  freely  to  Mark  Lolling  than  to  any 


GO  PANOLA. 

other  human  being;  even  her  mother,  a  quiet  Inch'au 
in  manner,  never  had  received  the  confidences  Panola 
gave  to  Mark,  who  understood  her  perfectly.  He 
could  almost  read  her  thoughts  at  times ;  and  he 
loved  her  intensely,  with  a  love  of  utter  sclf-abnoga- 
tlon  and  of  despair.  He  had  watched  the  gradual 
transformation  of  the  pale,  snow-white  child  into 
this  exquisitely  lovely  maiden.  He  had  helped  to 
develop  her  slowly-maturing  mind,  until  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  very  wine  and  the  sunshine  of  life 
had  grown  to  be  incarnated  in  the  body  of  Panola. 
She  brought  fresh  vitality,  and  the  actual  presence 
of  health  and  joy  to  him  whenever  she  approached 
him.  A  Sweden borgian  would  have  said  the 
emanations  of  Panola's  sphere  were  all  life-giving, 
they  were  so  pure  and  so  wholesome.  If  Panola  had 
any  "nerves,'^  she  did  not  know  it.  Katika  was 
full  of  nerves,  and  sentimental  fancies.  Panola  had 
a  quiet  contempt  for  Xatika  and  for  all  such  weak 
fine  ladies.  Mark  knew  this  instinctively,  and  he 
was  glad  to  be  left  alone  with  Panola,  while  Xatika 
and  Victor  walked  in  the  garden. 


A     FAMILY     GROUP.  Gl 

CHAPTEr.    III. 

A    FAMILY    GROUP. 

PAXOLA  knelt  down  by  Mark^s  chair  soon  as 
the  cousins  disappeared  out  of  the  apart- 
ment. She  took  Mark's  hand  and  held  it,  smooth- 
ing it  with  hers  as  she  said  : 

"  !Mark,  you  look  troubled.  AYhat  has  occurred  ? 
Tell  Panola." 

Mark  could  never  resist  the  pleading  tones  of 
Panola's  voice;  so  he  had  to  tell  her  all  about  uncle 
Jacob's  will. 

Panola  listened  attentively;  her  tender,  soft 
touches  comforted  Mark.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  with  his  eyes  closed  ;  but  his  expressioi/of 
countenance  showed  that  the  worst  bitterness ^y  his 
disappointment  was  over,  now  that  he  was  jsvivo,  of 
Panola's  sympathy.  He  did  not  dare  trust'  himself 
to  look  at  Panola :  he  knew  that  his  glances ^.would 
alarm  and  startle  her  childlike  confidence  in  him. 
So  he  shut  his  eyes  while  she  held  his  hand  so 
loving! v;  and  he  did  not  even  clasp  her  fingers;  he 
let  his  hand  lay  supinely  in  her  cool,  soft  palms. 
Every  pulse  throbbed  and  bounded,  and  a  lover's 
joy  flowed  to  the  innermost  recesses  of  his 
heart;  but  !Mark  controlled  hipisfelf  by  an  impe- 
rious strength  of  will;  he  did  not  allow  a  tremor: 


62  PANOLA. 

he  braced  himself  internally  and  sat  as  If  lie  were 
turned  into  stone.  He  could  not  risk  the  loss 
of  Panola's  affectionate  friendsliip,  -which  was  so 
much  to  him  in  the  impoverishment  of  his  daily 
life. 

''Mark,"  said  Panola,  after  hearing  all  he  had  to 
tell,  listening  for  the  thousandth  time  to  his  plain- 
tive laments  over  his  useless  existence,  "jSIark,  why 
should  your  life  be  useless?  You  have  studied 
medicine  a  good  deal ;  why  don't  you  help  your 
grandfather  in  his  practice?  You  could.  Plenty 
of  these  poor  'gumbo  French^  and  'cajeaus'  would 
be  glad  to  come  to  you  for  consultation.  I  would 
not  fret  and  grieve  over  myself.  I  ^^'0uld  make 
occupation  !     It  is  riot  manly  to  repine.'^ 

Mark  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  Panola. 

"  You  are  right,  Panola,"  he  replied.  "  You  are 
always  right ;  and  you  always  do  me  good,  Panola." 

"  I  am  glad  I  do,  dear  Mark,"  said  the  girl,  quite 
simply.  "I  think  how  much  better  off  you  are 
than  poor  mamma.  Oh,  Mark  !  it  is  too  sorrowful 
to  see  mamma  She  is  becoming  so  helpless  now. 
She  has  lost  now  the  use  of  her  arms  and  hands. 
Her  whole  frame  is  rigid,  except  her  head.  Such  a 
strano;e  affection  as  it  is  !  The  doctors  say  thev  have 
never  seen  anything  like  it.  She  has  never  had  a 
stroke  of  paralysis  so  far  as  she  knows,  and  she  Is 
not  affected  like  a  paralytic ;  there  is  no  withering 
nor  change  in  her  flesh.     She  is  as  round  and  plump 


A     FAMILY     G  K  0  U  P  .  Go 

as  ever,  and  all  the  processes  of  the  system  seem  to 
be  perfect  and  unchanged.  She  never  has  had  the 
least  pain  ;  but  three  years  ago  the  joints  of  her 
toes  became  rigid,  and  gradually  this  rigidity  has 
extended  until  now  she  lies  as  helpless  as  a  body  of 
stone.  She  is  not  affected  as  you  are,  Mark.  You 
had  rheumatic  fever  to  cause  your  partial  paralysis ; 
but  mamma  has  never  had  anything  the  matter  with 
hex,  and  she  is  not  at  all  a  nervous  person.'' 

"  ]N^o,"  said  Mark,  "  she  is  rather  phlegmatic,  and 
self-controlled  as  a  stoic;  she  is  not  at  all  emo- 
tional.'' 

'^She  is  so  reticent,  too,"  continued  Panola.  ^^I 
have  to  guess  at  her  feelings.  She  rarely  expresses 
what  she  thinks  or  feels  in  words." 

"But  she  has  a  firm  will,"  said  Mark,  "quiet  and 
undemonstrative  as  she  is.  Has  she  ever  got  over 
her  prejudice  against  my  stepmother? 

"  No,  indeed,  she  has  not.  You  know,  long  be- 
fore papa  died,  mamma  wouldn't  suffer  aunt  Boiling 
to  enter  her  room.  It  excited  her  so  much  that 
papa  had  to  ask  aunt  not  to  go  there.  It  troubled 
papa  greatly ;  he  was  very  fond  of  aunt  Boiling. 
"When  he  died,  you  know  he  requested  in  his  will 
that  she  should  be  allowed  to  live  in  the  Pa- 
vilion as  Ions  as  it  should  be  convenient  for  her  to 
do  so ;  and  he  left  her  half  of  his  personal  prop- 
erty. It  was  not  much.  The  property  was  all 
mamma's,  bought  with  her  paraphernal  money,  and 


64  PANOLA. 

of  course,  by  the  laws  of  this  State,  papa  could  not 
dispose  of  it.  The  chief,  Satana,  had  a  contract  of 
marriage  drawn  by  the  first  lawyers  of  tlie  State 
before  he  would  consent  to  mamma's  marriage  with 
a  white  man.'' 

"  What  reasons  does  your  motlier  give  for  dislik- 
ing my  stepmother  so  intensely  ?  " 

"  JSTone,  but  that  she  does  not  like  her ;  an  Indian 
reason,  you  will  think,  Mark,"  laughed  Panola. 
"But  you  know  what  an  Indian's  prejudices  are — 
instinctive,  I  suspect ;  when  they  hate,  they  Iiate." 

"And  when  they  love,  they  are  faithful  unto 
death,"  said  Mark,  softly. 

"  Yes,  we  never  forget  a  good ;  we  never  forgive 
an  injury,"  said  Panola,  and  a  dark  look  came  over 
her  fair  face,  changing  all  its  brightness  like  tlie 
passing  of  a  cloud  across  the  moon's  disc.  "  You  will 
think  me  very  wicked,  Mark.  I  am  rather  a  pagan 
by  organization,  I  believe  sometimes.  At  any  rate 
I  feel  much  more  sympathy  with  the  old  Stoics, 
whose  books  we  read  together,  than  I  do  with  the 
Christian  Scriptures.  I  believe,  on  occasion,  I  could 
see  my  enemy  scalped  or  burnt  at  the  stake,  with  as 
much  satisfaction  as  my  progenitors  on  the  maternal 
side.  Then,  again,  I  am  ashamed  of  such  ferocity ; 
that  is,  when  the  temperament  of  the  Xetherlandcrs 
is  in  the  ascendant ;  then  I  think  I  could  forgive 
mv  enemy  and  give  him  aid,  and  I  love  Christ  and 
Christian  teachings." 


A    FAMILY     GROUP.  65 

"  It  is  the  dual  nature  in  you  wliieli  makes  this 
strife,  Panola.  At  the  end  of  your  life  you  will  see 
which  has  gained  the  victory;  not  before." 

"  I  hope  it  may  be  the  good  Christian.  I  don't 
know,  though." 

"  Does  my  stepmotlier  reciprocate  your  mother^s 
ill-will?''  asked  Mark,  pursuing  his  train  of 
thought. 

"  Xo  ;  that's  the  w^orst  of  it !  Aunt  Boiling  is  so 
kind  and  so  amiable,  it  makes  me  really  uncorafort- 
ble.  She  is  always  ready  to  do  any  little  thing  for 
mamma,  and  often  does,  without  mamma's  knowin^r 
anything  about  it.  She  will  go  even  into  the 
kitchen  and  make  the  nicest  jellies  and  daintiest 
cakes  with  her  own  hands,  things  that  mamma  is 
very  fond  of;  and  Isobel  and  I  have  to  take  thera 
in  and  not  let  mamma  know  who  it  is  that  prepares 
them  so  deliciously.  Xo  one  could  be  kinder  than 
aunt  Bollino^." 

'^I  have  always  found  her  very  kind,"  said  ]\rark, 
thoughtfully.  "She  was  very  good  to  me  when  she 
came  to  college  and  found  me  ill  there.  I  have  not 
been  much  with  her.  My  father  seemed  to  be  fond 
of  her.  I  have  heard  that  she  was  very  unhappy  in 
her  first  marriage  with  Antony  Coolidge's  father. 
But  they  lived  in  Kentucky  during  their  marriage; 
he  was  a  citizen  of  that  State.  My  father  met  her 
here,  you  know,  whilst  she  was  on  a  visit  to  her 
brother.  Major  Flanoy.     They  lived  then  in  another 


66  PANOLA. 

parish,  and  I  was  off  at  school  and  college  under  the 
care  of  grandfather  Canonge ;  so  I  never  saw  her 
again  until  I  was  ill  at  college,  and  then  here  after- 
wards, when  I  found  her  domiciliated  with  Major 
Flanoy,  after  my  father's  sudden  death.'' 

"She  always  speaks  very  affectionately  of  you," 
said  Panola.  "  She  often  wishes  her  own  son  was  as 
good  as  you  are,  and  I  am  sure  I  wish  he  was  any- 
thing at  all  like  you ;  for,  as  he  is  now,  he  is  exces- 
sively disagreeable  to  me.  I  have  to  treat  him  po- 
litely, of  course,  on  account  of  aunt  Boiling;  but  I 
almost  hate  Antony  Coolidge.  I  should  like  to 
stick  arrows  into  him  and  burn  him  up,  as  my 
Cherokee  great-great-grandmother  would  have  done 
to  anybody  she  did  not  like." 

"I  think,  Panola,"  said  Mark,  smiling  at  the 
exaggeration  of  her  expressions  of  antipathy,  "  that 
my  stepmother  has  some  views  different  froui  yours 
on  that  subject.  She  would  like  to  draw  the  bonds 
of  relationship  closer  between  you  and  your  half- 
cousin." 

"  Well,  she'll  never  do  it,"  said  Panola,  ener- 
getically, "  for,  if  I  do  hate  any  human  being,  it  is 
my  half-cousin,  Antony." 

Just  then  their  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
hearing  Victor  Burthe's  magnificent  baritone  voice 
ringing  out  the  verse  of  Burns — he  was  teasing 
]S"atika  about  Panola's  beauty — 


A    FAMILY    GROUP.  67 

"Her  hair  it  is  lint-wliite, 
Her  skin  it  is  milk-white, 
Briglit  is  the  glance  of  her  bhie,  rolling  e'e ; 
Eed,  red,  are  her  ripe  lips, 
And  sweeter  than  roses. 
Oh  !  where  could  my  true  love  wander  frae  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  beautiful,  beautiful  voice ! "  ex- 
claimed Panola,  starting  to  her  feet  and  holding  her 
head  forward  in  an  eager,  listening  attitude. 

Mark  smiled  sadly  at  her  impulsive  movement. 
She  had  dropped  his  hand  so  quickly  when  the  first 
note  fell  upon  her  ear. 

"Victor's  voice  is  very  fine,''  he  said.  "He  is 
considered  to  be  the  very  finest  baritone  in  Xew 
Orleans,  that  city  of  music.'' 

"Oh,  it  is!"  said  Panola,  with  a  half-sigh.  "I 
wish  he  would  sing  some  more." 

"  I  wnll  make  him  sing  for  you  when  he  comes  in,'' 
said  Mark.  "  But  here  comes  grand fatlier,"  he  con- 
tinued, seeing  the  door  open  suddenly. 

"Ah !  Mademoiselle  Panola,"  cried  Docteur  Ca- 
nonge,  before  he  was  well  in  the  room,  "I  haf  jus' 
receive'  the  notiss  of  your  presence  here.  You  brino- 
wiz  you  ze  beautiful  sunshine !  It  haf  been  wedder 
not  so  good  since  here  you  was  the  week  past. 
Mark  and  I,  we  haf  missed  you  much ;  ver'  great 
deal.  I,  more  as  Mark.  He  not  haf  so  much 
galanterie  as  his  ole  granfader.     Pauvre  gar^on  !  " 

The  old  docteur  kissed  Panola's  hand,  patted  Mark 
on  the  shoulder,  then  drew  a  very  snuffy,  red  silk 


68  PANOLA. 

pocket-handkerchief  out  and  blew  his  nose  violently. 
Panola  saw  the  twinkling  of  a  tear-drop  in  the  old 
man's  eye,  as  he  turned  hastily  away.  He  was 
making  an  effort  to  hide  his  emotion,  so  as  not  to  let 
Mark  see  how  troubled  he  was  about  the  will. 

He  turned  back  to  Panola.  ''  You  haf  come  now 
in  ver'  good  hour,  in  ver'  best  of  time  !  for  I  haf 
now,  you  see,  my  granddaughter,  Xatika,  and  my 
grandson,  Victor  Burthe.  You  haf  see  Xatika? 
Ah,  that  is  good,  ver'  good.  An'  you  haf  see 
Victor?  That  is  also  good.  He  haf  fine  voice, 
haf  Victor  Burthe  !  ver'  fine  !  You  shall  hear  him 
sino;.  He  sing:  be-eu-tifool !  be-eu-teefool ! ''  The 
old  docteur  prolonged  the  adjective  with  a  circumflex 
accent  upon  it,  opening  his  eyes  widely,  and  spread- 
ing out  his  hands  as  he  spoke  it  emphatically. 

Panola  assured  him  she  fully  credited  all  he  said. 
She  had  "  heard  Mr.  Burthe  sing  a  few  notes 
already." 

^'Ah !  you  haf  him  already  hear?  Ah,  that  is 
"well.  But  you  haf  not  yet  Natika  hear  declaim. 
She  haf  fine  talent,  almost  like  mine,  for  dc  drame. 
She  ack  well ;  presque  comme  Pachel.  Her  Her- 
mione  is  ver'  like  Rachel.  Ah!  ma  foi,  you  shall 
see  her.  We  shall  haf  soiree  of  charades  and  leetle 
drame.  Quelques  declamations  from  Katika,  and 
some  song  from  Victor,  and  some  belle  musique 
from  you ;  you  will  bring  de  Stradinarius  dat  you 
procure  from  Mexique,  and  you  will  play  for  us; 


AFAMILTGROUP.  GO 

and  Mark  shall  listen,  an'  shall  play  at  cartes  wid 
some  friends  of  de  voisin;  and  I  shall  ack  in 
cliarades,  and  we  shall  have  cotillon,  and  I  sliall 
dance  wid  Madame  Duplessis,  la  m^-jre  Xicolline, 
and  also  wid  you,  Mademoiselle  Panola,  and  wid  de 
veuve  charmante,  jNIadame  votre  tante.  You  can 
come  demain  ;  to-morrow,  perhaps.  I  will  consulte 
wid  Xatika,  and  wid  Lizbette.  Lizbctte  muss  be 
consulte,  you  know.  Mademoiselle  Panola" — the 
gay  old  man  nodded  his  head  and  laughed — "  Liz- 
bette rule  Mark  and  I.  AVe  ver'  much  fear  Liz- 
bette !  X'este  ce  pas,  Mark  ?  "' 

Mark  smiled.  "  Yes,  indeed,  grandpapa  !  Liz- 
bette would  revenge  herself  by  giving  us  cold  coifee 
and  burnt  toast  if  we  didn't  consult  her  in  all  do- 
mestic arrangements.  You  had  better  ask  her  first, 
before  you  invite  any  of  your  guests." 

^'I  tink  so,  indeed.  I  shajl  go  immediatement  to 
consulte  Lizbette.  You  stay.  Mademoiselle  Panola, 
jusqu'a  mon  retour  from  de  Tartarean  region; 
Orphce  will  soon  return,"  and  the  merry  old  man 
darted  out  of  the  room  like  a  superannuated  swallow, 
swiftly,  if  rather  tremulously — singing,  in  a  cracked 
falsetto  and  in  very  quavering  style,  as  he  went : 
"  Que  faro  senza,  Eurjdice." 

lie  was  very  quaint  in  appearance  ,  as  thin  as  a 
human  being  could  be,  with  a  fine,  cleanly-cut,  deli- 
cate, long  French  countenance,  not  very  wrinkled, 
but  very  pale  and  sallow.     His  head  was  good;  his 


70  PANOLA. 

forehead  very  intellectual ;  his  dark  eyes,  bright  and 
sparkling,  beamed  with  good  nature  and  vivacity. 
His  eyebrows  and  hair  were  very  white.  He  wore 
a  four-cornered  skull-cap  of  black  velvet.  He  was 
very  neatly  dressed  in  the  summer  costume  of  striped 
blue  linen,  worn  by  Creoles  in  Louisiana.  His 
hands  were  small,  the  fingers  long  and  delicate,  the 
thumb  and  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  slightly 
stained  from  the  use  of  snuff. 

He  soon  returned  with  Lizbette's  gracious  per- 
mission for  the  soiree,  which  he  announced  trium- 
phantly to  Panola,  then  running  to  the  Venetian 
door,  he  called  out  as  loudly  and  shrilly  as  pos- 
sible : 

"Natika!  Victor!  Venez  ici  mes  cheres  enfans ! 
As  quick  as  possible  !  Come,  my  children  !  I  am 
in  much  haste !  ^' 

Natika  and  Victor  quickly  obeyed  their  grand- 
father's summons.  They  came  in  great  haste, 
almost  out  of  breath.  Natika  was  quite  flushed 
with  anxiety  to  know  what  was  wanted.  She  had 
been  absent  from  him  so  many  years  she  had  for- 
gotten her  grandfather's  impulsive,  ways.  She 
looked  blankly  at  Victor,  who,  with  his  usual  in- 
souciance, shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed 
when  Docteur  Canonge  announced  his  intention 
of  having  a  soiree  on  the  following  evening.  "  He 
had  already  consulte  Lizbette,"  he  said.  "  She 
had  gracieusement  agree  for  to  make  grand  efforts  in 


A     FAMILY     GROUP.  71 

ze  way  of  gumbo  fillet,  also  oysturcs  and  oJcr  tings 
for  im  petit  soupcr,  and  Mademoiselle  Panola  she 
'av^e  promis  to  assist  wid  her  violin  magnifique,  and 
also,  he  was  sure,  would  his  dear  children  Xatika  and 
Victor  give  their  amiable  tributes  to  the  recreations 
of  the  evening." 

Victor  recovered  his  self-possession  sooner  than 
Katika.  Docteur  Canonge  was  waiting  impatiently 
for  their  approbation  of  his  scheme  of  entertain- 
ment. Victor  assured  his  grandfather  that  he  might 
rely  upon  him  for  any  amount  of  singing  short  of  a 
whole  opera,  and  ]Sratika  was  compelled  to  adopt 
the  role  of  graceful  obedience,  though  she  privately 
informed  Victor  she  considered  the  whole  affair 
would  be  a  tremendous  bore ;  an  evening  with 
country  neighbors  and  home-made  music  not  ap- 
pearing very  inviting  to  this  spoiled  belle  of  Parisian 
salons.  "  But  at  any  rate  it  will  be  a  novelty,"  she 
said.  "  I  shall  have  vou  and  Mark  as  a  dernier 
resource  when  I  grow  weary  of  the  cam2)agnard5." 

Panola  arose  from  her  chair  now  to  go  home. 
Docteur  Canonge  darted  forward  to  accompany  her 
to  her  carriage.  "Mademoiselle  Panola,"  he  said, 
"you  will  convey  mes  homages  respecteuscs,  to  your 
charming  aunt,  Madame  Boiling,  and  to  iMonsieur 
Antony,  votre  cousin,  and  you  will  request  them  to 
honor  me  with  their  agreeable  society  to-morrow 
evening.  Mark,  you  will  write  for  me  leetle  notes 
to  ze  Smitts  and  ze  Clark  families,  as  I  do  not  so 


/2  PAXOLA. 

good  English  write  as  you.  I  will  myself  send  im 
billet  to  die  faniille  Duplessis — all  zie  four  families 
of  zem — particulierement  Madame  Duplessis  m^re/' 

The  merry  little  docteur  talked  all  the  way  out 
of  the  room,  as  he  walked  by  Panola's  side,  out  of 
the  hall,  on  to  the  verandah,  and  to  the  front  gate, 
where  her  phaeton  was  in  waiting,  with  a  man  on 
horseback  to  accompany  it.  Victor  followed  to  put 
Panola  into  her  carriage. 

"  Mademoiselle  Panola,"  said  the  old  docteur, 
lowering  his  voice  cautiously,  "you  see  my  poor 
Mark  is  ver'  much  trouble.  You  have  heard  of  that 
villain  will  ?  That  testament  malin  of  mv  brudder 
Jacob  ?  Ah !  si  ingrat  and  malicicux  of  Jacob ! 
Zu  mock  dat  bov  so!  He  cut  me  off  wid  nozinir! 
precisement  nozing !  and  he  give  Mark  ver'  leetle. 
I  am  ver'  glad  he  gif  so  much  zu  Natika  and  zu 
Victor  ;  but  it  is  hard  for  poor  Mark  !  His  fader 
gif  him  nozing  eider!  Madame  Boiling  sa  veuve 
charmante  she  get  what  Boiling  had  ;  not  much ! 
I  haf  got  some  leetle,  and  I  will  gif  to  ]\Iark  all  I 
can  ;  but  it  is  ver'  sad  for  poor  Mark,  and  I  will 
have  soiree  pour  egayer  jMark  !  and  for  compli- 
ment zu  Xatika  and  zu  Victor,"  ended  the  cour- 
teous docteur,  catching:  si^ht  of  Victor  behind  them. 

Victor  smiled,  and  walked  faster  up  to  Panola's 
other  side.     He  had  overheard  his  grandfather. 

Panola  assured  the  dear  old  man  that  she  would 
do  all  in  her  power  to  second  his  good  intentions, 


A     FAMILY     GROUP.  73 

and  v«;he  shook  hands  with  him  as  lie  assisted  her 
into  her  phaeton.  Victor  stood  idly  by.  Panola 
did  not  oiler  her  hand,  but  bowed  to  him  politely. 
The  groom  mounted  his  horse.  Panola  touched 
her  ponies  with  her  whip,  and  was  soon  whirled 
away,  leavino^  Docteur  Canono-e  and  Victor  leanin"; 
on  the  low  gate  gazing  after  her. 

"  That's  Cherokee  Joe  wiz  ^lademoiselle  Pa- 
nola/' said  Docteur  Canonge.  *'  He  always  ride 
after  her ;  but  never  after  no  one  else.  He  only 
hunt  and  shoot  and  keep  zle  larder  supply  wiz 
game  for  Major  Flanoy ;  but  he  go  wiz  Panola 
Avhenever  she  go  alone.  Pier  fader  dead  and  her 
moder  sick.  I  expect  die  chief  Satana  make  Joe 
stay  to  look  after  Panola.  If  anybody  do  harm  to 
Panola  all  zle  tribe  of  zie  Cherokees  would  hunt 
him  down.  Zose  Injuns  never  forgives  nor  forgets 
any  ting  good — neider  bad." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  have  the  hatred  of  an  In- 
dian/' observed  Victor,  lightly,  "  especially  of  a 
Avhole  tribe  of  Cherokees !  Do  you  think,  grand- 
papa, they  can  ever  be  civilized  entirely?" 

^^As  a  pure  race,  no!  I  zink  zey  are  as  essen- 
tially savage  as  zie  wolf!  But  as  zie  wolf  may  be 
metamorphose  graduellement,  into  zie  faithful  dog, 
so  zie  Indian  may  be  changed  by  zie  mingling  of 
blood  wiz  zie  white  races." 

''But  you  do  not  approve  of  any  mixture  of  races, 
graud])apa  ?  " 


74  PANOLA. 

"  ]N^o  !  Zle  wlilte  races  have  attained  zeir  excel- 
lence through  much  effort,  and  in  course  of  long 
ages  of  time.  Kot  only  zie  volume,  but  zie  quality 
of  zeir  brain  matter  is  zie  result  of  activities,  expe- 
riences, sufferings,  perhaps,  to  wliich  no  oder  race  of 
man  has  been  subjected.  I  do  not  very  -willingly 
see  zat  jeopardized ;  but  of  all  zie  colored  races,  zie 
Indian  of  America  is  least  objectionable.  He  pos- 
sesses some  very  fine  traits  of  nature,  which  in  zie 
best  specimens  of  hybrids  among  zem,  are  quite 
admirable!  But  dere  are  Indians  and  Indians! 
Among  zie  savage  races  of  man,  as  in  zie  savage 
races  of  beasts,  zere  are  lions  and  tigers  and  pan- 
thers, and  aho  jackals.  I  admire  zie  lions;  I  do 
not  particularly  like  zie  jackal." 

"  Do  you  think  they  can  ever  be  made  into  good 
citizens,  grandpapa?" 

"  I  doubt  it !  AVe  must  put  away  all  zie  roman- 
tic notions  about  zose  Indians.  Zey  are  a  strong 
race.  A  people  different  from  all  oders.  Can  you 
tame  w'holly  zie  tiger  or  zie  zebra  ?  zie  onagra  ? 
Can  you  make  zie  rattlesnake  gentle  ?  If  you  can, 
(\Qn  you  may  hope  to  tame  zie  unmixed  Indian. 
Zey  are  brave,  proud,  continent,  stoical,  strong,  but 
zey  are  deceitful  as  zie  adder,  cunning  as  zie  wild- 
cat, persevering,  obstinate,  suspicious,  revengeful, 
and  quick-sighted  as  zie  lynx.  AVhat  can  you  do 
-sviz  such  a  people  ?  Change  his  blood  or  kill  him. 
Zat  is  all  we  can  do.     I  do  not  myself  expect  to  see 


A     F  A  :\I  I  L  Y     G  R  0  U  P  .  iO 

zie  catamount  and   zie  jaguar  ploughing  zie  fields, 
instead  of  zie  ox  or  zie  mule/' 

XoTE.— Their  religion  is  a  sort  of  Theism.    They  believe  in  a 
Great  Sjurit  who  governs  all  things,  and  they  believe,  like  tlie  Per- 
sians, ill  an  evil  spirit,  which  they  call  "  Ah-skeen-er."     He  is  an 
invisible  spirit,  who  is  not  susceptible  of  a  good  thought,  and 
whose  tendency  is  essentially  alioaT/s  in  favor  of  evil,  and  that  he 
has  innumerable  other  subordinate  evil  spirits,  subject  to  his  in- 
fluence and  bidding,  that  continually  infest  the  earth   and  all 
things  connected  therewith  (including  the  air),  and  wliich  are 
never  idle  in  their  inspimtiom  of  evil  to  the  human  family  as 
well  as  to  the  brute  creation.     Hence  all   the  evil  passions  are 
generally,  by  the  Cherokees,  charged  to  the  Devil— or,  as  they 
call  him  in  their  native  language,  "Ah-skeen-cr,"  which  signifies 
the  qnintcssence  of  meanness.     Also,   misfortunes,  accidents  of 
injurious  character,  sickness,  bad  dreams,  evil  forebodings,  men- 
tal aberration,  etc.,  are  supjwsed  to  be  the  work  of  devils,  who 
obey  the  will  of  their  great  master,  the  chief  of  all  devils,  whose 
throne  or  chief-seat  is  generally  conceded  to  be  somewhere  in  the 
next  world,  opposite  the  "  Happy  hunting-grounds,"  and  in  a 
region  where  the  sun  never  shines,  and   where  total   darkness 
prevails,  and  where  briars  and  thoi^xs  grow  densely  all  over  tlie 
country,  and  the  game  is  always  wvVrf.     The  devil  receives  the 
wicked  (or  those  to  be  punished  for  their  bad  work  on  this  eartli) 
from  the  hands  of  his  executive  officers  (the  subordinate  devils 
•ready  alluded  to)  and  turns  them  loose,  in  this  cheerless  region, 
naked  and  hunr/ry.    The  punishment  in  this  Cherokee  Hell  ap- 
pears to  be,  that  the  parties  punished  do  not  and  cannot  know^ 
each  other,  on  account  of  the  darkness,  but  are  in  inutual  fear  of 
each  other ;  that,  being  always  famished  or  hungry,  they  are  in 
continual  but  vain   pursuit   of  the  wild  game,  and  that  being 
naked,   their  j^ersons   are  continually   torn   by   the   briars   and 
thorns  that  cover  the  country.     These,  I  think,  are  substantially 
the  outlines  of  the  Cherokee  idea  of  the  princ§  of  devils  and  his 
'*  imps." 


76  PAX  OLA. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

ACTED     CHARADES. 

FATE  was  propitious  to  Docteur  Caiionge — the 
evening  was  clear  and  bright,  and  all  his 
guests  accepted  avec  plaisir.  They  came  before 
dark.  The  salons  were  thrown  open  and  were  well 
lighted  with  lamps  and  candles.  Tlie  long,  one- 
storied  house,  with  the  wide  verandahs  in  front 
and  back,  made  quite  a  brilliant  display,  as  the 
guests  drove  up  in  their  various  equipages.  Madame 
Bollinsr,  Antonv  and  Panola  came  in  a  handsome 
close  coach,  with  outriders,  one  of  whom  was  Cher- 
okee Joe,  mounted  upon  a  little  black  Indian  pony. 
The  Smith  and  Clark  families  had  already  arrived, 
and  Docteur  Canonge  was  trying  to  amuse  them  with 
some  stereoscopic  views,  that  Mark  had  collected 
durinor  big  travels  in  search  of  health.  The  Smiths 
and  the  Clarks  were  Americans,  recently  moved  into 
the  neighborhood.  They  were  good,  commonplace, 
rather  stiff  and  awkward,  people,  fearful  to  enter- 
tain, for,  as  Docteur  Canonge  whispered  to  Panola, 
'^they  ivere  not  at  all  responsive  in  character J^ 

Xatika  had  begun  to  look  as  patiently  resigned 
as  St.  Catherine,  a  martyr  -on  her  wheel ;  Victor  was 
good-naturedly  trying  to  talk  to  the  eldest  Miss 
Clark,  who  professed  to  be  musical,  and  promised 


ACTED    CHARADES.  il 

"  to  execute  the  Glciimaiy  waltzes  in  the  course  of 
the  evening."  Mr.  Clark  was  a  tall,  slab-sided  man, 
with  a  hooked  nose,  who  talked  so  rapidly,  and  cut 
off  his  words  in  such  a  manner,  that  Docteur  Can- 
onge,  with  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  English, 
found  him,  as  he  told  Panola,  "  enormoushj  dif- 
ficult to  comprehends^  Madame  Clark  (as  she 
was  much  pleased  to  be  called — it  sounded  grander 
than  plain  Mrs.)  was  "  enormously ''  fat,  and  rather 
jolly ;  she  laughed  and  was  in  a  good  humor  with 
everything  and  everybody.  The  Smiths  were  lan- 
guishing, drawling,  and  fashionably  indifferent 
about  everything ;  there  were  three  young  ladies  of 
them ;  their  mamma,  who  wore  caps  trimmed  with 
red  ribbons  and  yellow  flowers ;  and  also  tliere  was 
a  brother,  who  was  an  exquisite,  sporting  yellow 
gloves,  who  carried  an  eye-glass,  and  wished  to 
devote  himself  to  ]N^atika,  whom  he  decided  imme- 
diately ^^  to  be  stunning.^' 

Docteur  Canonge  darted  forward  to  meet  Madame 
Boiling  and  her  party.  lie  was  immensely  relieved 
at  their  arrival.  The  Smiths  and  Clarks  were  almost 
too  much  for  him.  Madame  Bollino;  entered  leanino; 
upon  her  son's  arm;  Panola  followed,  and  a  servant 
came  after  her,  carrying  a  small  violin-box,  which 
Panola  carefully  de})osited  herself  in  a  very  safe 
corner  of  an  etar/b-e.  It  contained  her  Straduarius,  a 
violin,  precious  as  gold  or  diamonds  to  a  true  artiste. 
Madame   Boiling   was   handsome;    her   eyes   were 


78  PANOLA. 

large  and  bright,  but  so  black  that  there  did  not 
seem  to  be  any  gradation  of  tinting  between  the 
iris  and  pupil,  which  gave  a  singular  expression  to 
them ;  her  lashes  were  so  long  they  curled  upwards 
like  deep  fringes,  her  nose  was  decidedly  retrous.^e  ; 
some  persons,  evil-minded,  might  have  called  it  a 
positive  snub;  it  was  rather  spread  out  at  the  nos- 
trils, showing  the  strain  of  African  blood  ;  the  mouth 
was  large  and  sensuous,  w^ith  full,  rich,  red  lips,  and 
when  she  smiled  she  showed  two  rows  of  strong, 
white  teeth  ;  her  forehead  was  low ;  the  black  hair, 
wavy  and  abundant,  grew  down  nearly  to  her  eye- 
brows, which  were  black  and  strongly  marked ;  she 
had  a  well-formed,  shapely  figure,  rather  inclined  to 
embonpoint;  her  hands  were  large,  and  thick  in  the 
fingers.  She  was  elaborately  dressed  in  a  crimson- 
satin  gown,  with  lace  flounces,  her  neck  and  arms 
bare — they  were  fat  and  handsome  ;  altogether  she 
was  an  attractive  woman. 

Antony  Coolidge  did  not  resemble  his  mother. 
He  was  very  homely,  and,  as  Xatika  said,  "he  lootel 
like  a  white  negro."  He  had  good  manners,  and 
was  quiet,  but  rather  heavy  in  conversation. 
"  Panola  was  dressed  in  white  tarlatan  (the  usual 
dress  of  young  Louisiana  girls);  she  had  a  blue 
ribbon  around  her  waist,  and  she  wore  her  rattle- 
snakes, one  in  her  breast,  and  one  in  her  hair  made 
the  clasp  of  a  wreath  of  forest  leaves,  and  small, 
white,   well-opened   cotton   bolls  which   she    wore 


ACTED     CHARADES.  79 

around  her  head ;  a  fantastic  but  pretty  crown,  try- 
ing to  any  complexion  but  one  so  fair  as  Panola's. 
Her  long,  straight  hair,  Avhich  looked  like  the  spun, 
yellow  threads  made  by  glass-blowers,  was  knotted 
up  and  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon,  low  on  the  neck, 
rather  in  Indian  stvle  than  that  of  Monsieur  Alfree. 
But  it  suited  Panola.  Xatika  looked  at  her  with 
curiosity ;  she  considered  her  style  decidedly  "  outree" 
and  "sauvage.'' 

All  the  families  of  the  Duplessis  now  poured  into 
the  room,  and  there  began  to  be  a  clatter  of  tongues 
and  such  an  interchanging  of  compliments  that  the 
whole  roof  commenced  to  echo  and  re-echo,  and 
Docteur  Canonge's  soiree  was  fairly  started  on  a 
prosperous  and  successful  tide.  A  man,  who  had 
been  employed  for  the  purpose,  opened  the  piano 
and  began  to  play  gay  waltzes  and  dances.  The 
merry  Duplessis  Avere  soon  whirling  around  the 
room,  and  everybody  was  very  quickly  drawn  into 
the  vortex.  Docteur  Canonge  led  off  the  cotillon 
with  Madame  Duplessis,  mere,  who  was  seventy 
years  old,  and  wore  a  turban  of  black  lace,  with  a 
bird  of  paradise  fastened  on  the  top  of  her  gray  hair. 
She  was  a  small,  active  old  Frenchwoman,  light  as 
a  bird,  and  she  danced  down  the  cotillon  with 
twinkling  feet  and  sparkling  eyes.  Her  great-grand- 
children were  dancing  too,  and  her  granddaughter 
and  her  granddaughter's  husband.  Her  daughter 
was  playing  cards  with  Mark  "  at  presenC^ 


80  PANOLA. 

Madame  Boiling  was  led  out  by  Mr.  Clark,  and 
Panola  danced  with  Victor.  Natika  fell  to  the 
share  of  Antony  Coolidge;  she  did  not  exert  herself 
to  be  specially  agreeable  until  she  caught  a  glance 
of  unequivocal  admiration  in  his  stupid,  watery, 
blue  eyes,  and  Xatika  was  coquette  enough  to  be 
pleased  at  anybody's  admiration,  so  she  began  to 
rouse  herself  and  to  talk  a  little  more. 

The  Duplessis  flew  about  over  the  floor  like  so 
many  sparrows.  After  the  first  cotillon  they  had 
some  charades.  Natika  soon  found  that  unpromis- 
ino;  as  had  been  the  exterieur  she  was  surrounded 
by  first-rate  native  talent.  All  the  Duplessis  acted 
well.  Docteur  Canonge  was  really  inimitable  in 
his  way.  It  was  as  good  as  a  French  vaudeville. 
Antony  Coolidge  had  decent  abilities  as  an  actor. 
Madame  Boiling  was  fine;  so  was  Victor,  and 
Katika  found  out  she  would  have  to  exert  all  her 
talent  to  hold  her  own  among  them.  Panola  did 
not  act  well ;  she  had  not  the  gift  of  personatian, 
but  she  was  lovely  in  tableaux.  So  they  made  her 
into  an  Iphigenia  at  Aulis. 

Docteur  Canonge  was  the  sacrificing  priest ;  Victor 
was  Achilles  ;  Madame  Bollino-  Clvtemnestra  ;  and  a 
Judge  Morgan,  from  Kentucky,  who  was  a  guest 
of  the  Smiths,  and  whom  they  had  requested  per- 
mission to  bring  to  the  soiree,  w^as  metamorphosed 
into  a  fine  Agamemnon,  with  his  head  buried  deep 
in  Madame  Boiling's  black  velvet  circular,  which 


ACTED     CHARADES.  81 

answered  very  well  for  a  classic  mantle  under  the 
exigencies  of  the  occasion.  This  tableau  was  en- 
cored repeatedly,  and  each  time  Docteur  Canonge, 
the  laurel-crowned  priest,  assumed  a  more  ferocious 
aspect  as  he  clasped  the  sacrificial  knife,  one  of  his 
largest  surgical  instruments,  in  his  hand.  Victor 
Bur  the  sang  his  very  best  after  this.  He  watched 
Panola's  face  to  see  what  she  thought  of  his  singing. 
He  was  flattered  by  her  breathless  attention.  He 
glided  to  her  side.  "  You  are  fond  of  music, 
Mademoiselle  Panola ! " 

^'Fo)id  of  music ! '  said  Panola,  opening  her 
blue  eyes  widely.  "  I  think  sometimes  mr/  life  is  in 
musicJ^ 

"  That's  a  strong  expression/'  said  Victor, 
smilins:. 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  replied  Panola. 

Just  then  Docteur  Canonge  came  to  speak  to 
Panola,  and  she  went  off  with  him.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments a  low  strain  of  music  filled  the  salon. 

It  was  a  slow,  solemn  movement,  and  it  seemed 
to  Victor  that  there  were  at  least  four  violins  play- 
ing in  perfect  harmony.  It  had  almost  the  effect 
of  full  orchestra.  He  looked  at  ^lark  for  explana- 
tion.    Mark  smiled  at  his  surprised  glance. 

"It  is  Panola,"  he  whispered, 

"  Panola  !  does  she  play  the  violin  like  that  ?  " 

Mark  nodded  his  head,  but  a  stop  was  put  to 
further  conversation  by  the  drawing  back  of  the 
5 


82  PANOLA. 

curtains  in  front  of  the  portion  of  the  parlor  impro- 
vised into  a  stage. 

Natika,  in  the  classic  drapery  of  Camille,  with 
young  Duplessis  as  Horace,  came  forward.  They 
began  to  act  scenes  from  Les  Horaces  of  Corneille. 
They  were  both  good  actors,  and  they  Avarmed  up 
as  they  proceeded  in  their  parts.  At  last  they  got 
to  the  grand  scene,  where  Horace  brings  in  the 
swords  of  the  three  Curiaces.     Horace  begins  : 

"Ma  soeur  voici  le  bras  qui  senge  nos  deux  frere?." 

It  was  admirably  rendered  by  Duplessis,  but  at 
the  close,  where  Camille  makes  the  apostrophe  to 
"^Rorne,'^  and  ends  with  her  fearful  malediction, 
Katika  seemed  literally  inspired.  Her  small  audi- 
ence were  electrified ;  her  voice  rang  and  thrilled 
through  every  heart  (she  had  studied  from  Rachel). 
At  the  conclusion  there  was  the  greatest  excitement ; 
tlie  Duplessis  clapped  and  stamped  and  cried  "  en- 
core,''  and  "bravo,"  until  they  were  all  hoarse. 
Even  the  Smiths  and  Clarks  caught  the  enthusiasm. 
It  was  a  moment  of  triumph  for  Xatika ;  but  at  last 
the  curtain  closed  positively  before  her,  and  people 
were  beginning  to  subside  into  a  little  more  quiet, 
when  Panohi  bounded  out  from  behind  the  curtain, 
dressed  "  as  a  young  Bacchante,'^  Docteur  Canonge 
said. 

She  had  simply  tied  a  tanned  wolf's  skin  around 
her  shoulders,  over  her  vrliite  frock,  and  put  ou  a 


ACTED     CHARADES.  83 

pair  of  ])ca(lGcI  Iiulian  moccasins  on  her  little  feet, 
and  tucked  up  lier  skirts  rather  short,  and  let  her 
long,  gold  hair  stream  over  her  like  a  veil  from 
under  her  crown  of  leaves.  She  looked  "?r/7(/" 
enough,  if  rather  an  anachronism,  as  she  sprancr 
forth  with  her  violin  and  bow  in  her  hands  and  be- 
gan to  play  the  wildest,  merriest  tunes,  flinging  out 
the  funniest  and  most  grotesque  combinations  of 
notes.  Everybody  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fury 
of  dancing  ;  like  the  effect  of  the  flute-player  of  the 
Tannenhauser,  Panola's  wild  music  seemed  to  set 
everybody  crazy  with  fun. 

Panola  played  jigs,  reels.  Highland  flings,  Italian 
tarantelles.  Her  bow  seemed  to  fly  like  a  gleam 
of  liglit  across  the  strings;  at  last  she  fell  into  the 
tune  of  the  ''Arkansas  Traveller ; "  she  played  it  in 
every  key  and  with  every  modulation  ;  she  made  it 
laugh,  and  cry,  and  whine,  and  jerk,  and  trill,  and 
quiver ;  she  played  it  single,  and  double,  and  triple, 
and  quadruple.  Everybody  was  dancing,  and  laugh- 
ing like  mad  people,  until  Panola  saw  that  they 
were  absolutely  exhausted,  when  gradually  she 
toned  her  music  down  till  it  quietly  died  away.  She 
disappeared  suddenly  behind  the  curtains  again, 
and  the  weary  dancers  sunk  upon  their  chairs 
breathless  and  gasping. 

Mark  had  laughed  till  he  cried,  and  sat  now  in  his 
chair  wiping  off  the  traces  of  tears  from  his  cheeks. 
His  grandfather  was  very  happy  to  see  Mark  laugh. 


84  PANOLA. 

Lizbette  announced  the  serving  of  the  supper, 
and  Panola  reappeared,  grave  and  demure,  dressed 
agahi  as  she  was  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening. 
Lizbette's  gumbo  and  oysters  were  perfect.  "  The 
mayonaise  of  red-fish  and  the  salad  "  Docteur  Can- 
onge  had  prepared  himself,  he  said ;  so  they  were 
beyond  praise.  Some  cold  roast  turkey  and  a  ham, 
with  p^tes,  little  cakes,  and  confitures,  and  some 
delicious  aspic  jelly  of  white  grapes,  and  oranges, 
bananas  and  pineapples,  with  plenty  of  excellent 
claret,  a  good  cup  of  black  coffee,  and  a  pousse  cafe 
of  a  thimbleful  of  curagoa  or  strong  Marischino, 
concluded  the  menu.  It  was  done  full  justice  to, 
and  after  supper  everybody  made  their  obeisances 
to  iSTatika,  and  thanked  Docteur  Canonge  for  their 
"delightful  evening,''  and  they  all  went  home. 

As  Judge  Morgan  rode  home  with  young  Smith 
in  his  cabriolet  he  asked  him  about  the  different 
people  they  had  met,  especially  Madame  Boiling, 
about  whom  he  seemed  to  have  some  curiosity.  He 
had  been  introduced  to  her,  and  had  danced  with 
her,  but  by  some  accident  had  not  been  introduced 
to  her  son.  He  spoke  of  her  now  carelessly,  but 
with  evident  interest.  Smith  knew  very  little  about 
her,  as  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  met.any  of  the 
neighbors ;  his  family  had  only  recently  moved 
here.  He  told  Judge  Morgan  that  "  she  was  a 
half-sister  of  Major  Flanoy,  and  the  aunt  of 
Panola." 


ACTED    CHARADES.  85 

The  judge  sat  meditating.  "She  canH  be  the 
same  person,  I  suppose,"  he  said,  at  length,  "else 
she  would  certainly  have  recognized  me  as  I  did  her. 
She  did  not  seem  to  know  me  at  all ;  but  the  woman 
I  speak  of  could  not  have  forgotten  me.  Oh,  no  I 
that  would  be  an  impossibility.  I  never  saw  such  a 
likeness  in  my  life,  though ! '' 

"  Where  did  you  know  anybody  like  Madame 
Boiling?"  inquired  Smith,  roused  at  last  into  a 
faint  curiosity. 

"The  woman   I   knew   lived   in  ,"  replied 

Morgan.  "  She  was  brought  before  me  on  a  charge 
of  lunacy,  a  charge  preferred  by  her  own  husband ; 
but  she  came  into  court  in  her  riding-liabit,  and 
stood  up  coolly  in  the  box,  tapping  her  little  boot 
with  her  whip  while  the  indictment  was  being  read 
against  her,  and  then,  refusing  the  aid  of  any  law- 
yer, she  defended  herself  most  eloquently.  It  was 
impossible  to  send  her  to  an  asylum.  The  jury  gave 
the  verdict  in  her  favor  without  quitting  their  seats. 
Shortly  after,  the  husband  died,  and  she  removed 
from  the  State.  After  her  departure  I  heard  a  good 
many  queer  things  about  her,  which  rather  puzzled 
me.  She  certainly  was  strange,  and  extremely  cruel, 
I  heard,  to  those  in  her  power ;  one  of  her  slaves 
hung  herself  to  escape  from  the  tyranny  and,  some 
said,  the  torturing  of  her  mistress.  I  don't  know 
how  true  the  facts  were,  but  they  were  dreadful ; 
and  if  the  woman  was  not  insane,  she  was  so  wicked 


86  PANOLA. 

she  should  have  been  killed  as  one  would  destroy  a 
noxious  beast  or  reptile.  Tliey  said  she  poisoned 
her  husband,  as  well  as  other  people.  However,  it 
was  long  ago,  and  Mrs.  Coolidge  is  probably  dead 
before  this — " 

"  Mrs.  Coolidge  !  Why,  there  was  a  young  man 
there  to-night  named  Coolidge.  Did  you  not  see 
him  ?  "  exclaimed  Smith,  wide  awake  now. 

"  No,  I  did  not  see  him,'^  said  Judge  Morgan, 
"  but  I  am  sorry  I  have  to  go  off  so  early  in  the 
morning,  else  I  should  really  like  to  meet  that 
Madame  Boiling  again.  She  is  a  very  handsome  and 
interesting  woman,  very  handsome,  indeed !  very 
handsome !  '^ 

"  It  was  quite  a  success,  Xatika,^'  exclaimed  Vic- 
tor, as  the  last  of  the  guests  departed.  "Confess 
you  have  been  often  more  bored  in  Madame  Kon- 
her's  salons  in  Paris  than  at  grandpapa's  soiree  to- 
nio;ht." 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  so  bad,"  replied  Xatika,  with  a 
yawn,  "  but  I  am  very  sleepy." 

"The  little  cotton  blossom  is  a  wonder,"  said 
Victor.     "  Her  music  was  like  the  boltl 

"  Hearty  rhymes, 
New  revived 
Music  of  Acharnse ; 
Clioleric,  fiery,  quick 
As  the  sparkle 
From  the  charcoal 


NATIKA     JACQUIMIX.  87 

Of  the  native  evergreen, 

Knotted  oak 

In  tlie  smoke 
Shows  his  active,  fiery  spleen, 
Whilst  beside 

Stands  the  dish 

Full  of  fish, 
Ready  to  be  fried." 

Natika  laughed.  '^  Quote  Aristophanes  to  a 
Greek  in  her  own  tongue,  Victor,  if  you  can!" 

"  Frere  is  very  resj)ectable,''  said  Victor. 

Docteur  Canonge  had  caught  the  word  "  fisli." 
So  he  said :  "  Oui,  I  sink  de  mayonaise  teas  ver' 
good.  I  am  glad  you  like  him  so  much,  Victor. 
I  made  him  myself! '' 


CHxVPTER    V. 

NATIKA     J  A  C  Q  U  1 M  I  X  . 

r  I  IHE  father  of  Natika  Jacquimin  was  a  Greek, 
-■-  who  came  over  on  a  trading  expedition  to 
America,  with  his  brothers,  in  a  small  merchant 
ship,  laden  with  dried  fruits  and  wines  from  the 
Levant.  After  they  had  made  an  advantageous 
sale  of  their  articles  of  traffic,  it  was  decided  among 
the  family  of  brothers,  that  the  eldest  of  the  four, 


88  PANOLA. 

"John  Neoptolemns,"  shoiikl  remain  in  Kew  Or- 
leans, set  up  a  small  shop,  which  the  family  were  to 
keep  supplied  with  fruits  and  wines,  etc.,  while  the 
other  three  brothers  were  to  return  home  for  a  fresh 
cargo.  John  Xeoptolemus  was  a  shrewd  trader. 
He  spoke  several  tongues  fluently,  was  clever  and 
insinuating.  He  prospered,  made  some  money  for 
his  brothers,  and  a  great  deal  for  himself  In  course 
of  time  he  extended  his  business,  built  a  fine  ware- 
house, and  became  famous  as  a  dealer  in  wines.  He 
speculated  in  cotton,  in  sugar,  in  stocks,  in  every- 
thing; was  fortunate,  and  grew^  to  be  a  millionnaire. 
At  more  than  middle  age  he  married  the  pretty 
Miss  Canonge,  Avho  died  at  the  birth  of  Natika. 

[N^atika  was  brought  up  chiefly  by  her  aunt,  iNIrs. 
Burthe,  who  loved  the  little  girl  almost  as  much  as 
she  did  her  only  son,  A'ictor,  who  was  two  years 
younger  than  IS^atika.  All  three  daughters  of 
Docteur  Canonge,  Mrs.  Jacquimin,  Mrs.  Burthe 
and  Mrs.  Boiling;;,  seemed  to  be  of  delicate  constitu- 
tion,  for  they  died  off  one  after  another,  leaving  the 
already  wddowed  old  docteur  very  lonely  in  the 
world.  He  was  very  glad  to  get  control  of  his 
grandson,  Mark  Boiling,  at  the  time  of  his  son-in- 
law  Boiling's  second  marriage  with  Mrs.  Coolidge. 
Mark  was  a  very  precious  treasure  to  the  old  man. 
He  had  not  seen  very  much  of  his  other  two  grand- 
children, though  they  were  sent  occasionally  to  visit 
him   by   their   respective  parents    and    guardians. 


NATIKA     JACQUIMIN.  80 

Xatlka  was  a  delicate  cliild,  partly  perhaps  from 
being  deprived  of  her  mother's  care  at  such  an  early 
aire  and  also  from  over-indul":;ence  in  all  her  ca- 
pricious  tastes  and  wilful  imjn'udences  from  the 
time  that  she  was  conscious  of  possessing  a  will  of 
her  own.  licr  aunt  Burthe  never  said  her  nay, 
and  her  fiither  was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  busi- 
ness to  give  much  time  to  the  bringing  up  of  his 
only  child.  He  saw  Xatika  occasionally,  either  in 
his  own  home,  where  she  was  intrusted  to  the  care 
of  well-paid  but  careless  servants,  or  at  her  aunt 
Burthe's,  where  she  spent  most  of  her  time.  He 
saw  that  she  was  exceedingly  pretty  and  graceful, 
intelligent  and  bright,  and  he  Avas  satisfied. 

Natika  was  treated  like  a  little  queen  in  her 
aunt's  house ;  and  Victor  was  taught,  from  his  ear- 
liest years,  to  submit  to  her  iniperiousness,  and  to 
look  upon  her  as  a  creature  quite  superior  to  or- 
dinary human  beings.  Natika  was  very  much 
quicker  in  intellect  than  Victor.  She  had  all  the 
readiness  and  suppleness  which  the  long,  back- 
stretching  generations  of  culture  give  to  the  pure 
Greek  mind.  She  was  as  versatile  in  her  talents  as 
Alcibiades  himself,  and  might  have  held  her  own 
with  an  Aspasia,  or  a  Deidamia,  the  gifted  friend 
of  Socrates ;  and  with  this  Greek  subtlety  of  nature 
was  combined  the  light,  mercurial  "  chauvimisme  " 
of  her  mother's  French  blood. 

Natika  was  true  for  the  moment;  but  possession 


90  PANOLA. 

of  any  coveted  pleasure  brought  with  it  immediate 
satiety  and  weariness.  Nothing  satisfied  her ;  she 
found  excitement  in  the  pursuit,  but  never  in  the 
attainment  of  her  wishes.  She  was  the  true  daugh- 
ter of  those  Athenians  who,  as  St.  Paul  says,  "  were 
never  wcarv  to  hear  or  to  tell  of  some  new  thing:," 
and  yet  this  very  versatility  and  changefulness  gave 
a  piquancy  and  attraction  to  Katika  which  also 
made  of  her  a  Cleopatra,  whom  age  could  not 
wither  nor  custom  stale  in  her  infinite  variety.  The 
truth  of  b_r  momentary  impulses  made  them 
strangely  fascinating,  while  her  caprices  tortured, 
and  her  total  lack  of  power  of  devotion  and  self-ab- 
negation, qualities  which  seem  to  be  essentially 
womanly,  made  Natika  a  perpetual  disappointment 
and  cause  of  anguish  to  all  who  really  ,^oved  her. 
She  was  so  unstable,  and  so  fond  of  power,  that 
sometimes  she  seemed  to  be  utterly  merciless  and 
cold,  when  she  was  only  weary.  Intellectual  pleas- 
ures would  have  given  her  some  sort  of  real  satis- 
faction ;  but  Xatika,  while  she  would  read  all  day 
sometimes,  and  listen  with  clear  understandins:  to 
any  intellectual  convei-sation,  had  never  the  steadi- 
ness of  purpose  to  study  anything.  AVhat  she  knew, 
she  picked  up  without  trouble.  She  icould  not  be 
troubled  about  anything!  ^^It  did  not  'pay^^  she 
said. 

Any  nouveaute  amused  her  for  a  day;    then  it 
wearied  her ;  then  she  hated  it.     She  liad  no  con- 


NATIKA    JACQUIMIN.  91 

cc])tIon  of  duty,  or  of  self-sacrifice.  There  were  no 
possibilities  of  any  heroism  in  her.  She  was  born 
a  Sybarite  ;  but  an  intellectual  one,  for  there  was  no 
coarseness  in  Xatika.  Such  as  she  was,  she  was  pas- 
sionately followed  and  adored  by  higher  and  better 
natures  than  hers  ever  could  become.  But  hiirh 
and  heroic  deeds,  even,  would  have  wearied  Xatika. 
She  did  not  like  the  demands  such  natures  made  upon 
her — demands  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  her 
nature  to  meet  satisfactorily.  It  was  not  in  her  to  be 
constant  and  to  love  nobly.  Why  should  more  be 
demanded  of  any  organization  than  it  is  capable  of? 

To  Panola,  Xatika  felt  an  instinctive  dislike. 
She  did  not  like  her  beauty.  She  did  not  like  her 
wonderful  violin-playing.  She  did  not  like  the 
singleness  and  utter  simplicity  of  manner,  or  the 
semi-stoical  nature,  or  the  self-control  and  reticence 
which  were  Panola's  inheritance  from  her  long: 
generations  of  warrior  ancestors.  Xatika  felt  in- 
stinctively the  dawning  possibilities  of  a  heroism 
and  magnanimity  in  Panola  that  she  herself  was 
incapable  of;  and  she  did  not  like  her.  Xeither 
did  she  like  the  expression  of  Mark  Boiling's  face, 
when  he  spoke  of  Panola  ;  nor  Victor's  loudly  pro- 
claimed admiration  of  her  beauty;  though  he  con- 
fessed Panola  had  "no  stijle^^  whatever. 

Xatika's  flither  had  been  dead  for  several  vears, 
and  she  was  left  utterly  unfettered  by  home-ties  of 
any  sort  at  her  majority.     She  had  put  her  business 


92  PANOLA. 

aflfliirs  into  the  hands  of  responsible  guardians,  and 
she  had  gone  to  Europe,  where  she  lived  the  half- 
Bedouin  life  of  wandering  Americans,  changing  her 
residence  from  city  to  city  as  it  suited  her  Avhim. 
She  had  still  relatives  living  in  Greece,  and  one 
uncle  survived,  who  was  a  large  banker  in  Constan- 
tinople; and  she  had  a  cousin  in  trade  in  Cairo, 
Egypt.  She  renewed  her  intercourse  by  letter  with 
these  nearly  forgotten  relatives,  and  she  frequently 
threatened  Victor  with  running  away  from  the 
"  wearisome  civilization  of  Europe,"  to  take  refuge 
in  the  more  lax  conventionalisms  of  the  East.  The 
life  of  a  wandering  tourist  was  too  objectless  to 
satisfy  Natika.  She  liked  novelty;  but  she  had  no 
sentimentality  with  any  past,  no  respect  for  tradition 
in  any  form,  no  reverence  for  anybody  or  any- 
thing, and  she  hated  the  trouble  of  sight-seeing.  She 
liked  people  and  society.  She  had  been  compelled 
to  visit  America  and  her  native  State  on  account  of 
some  business  arrangements ;  and  while  she  was  in 
Louisiana,  she  thought  she  might  as  well  pay  her 
grandfather  Canonge  a  visit.  So  she  had  come. 
And  Victor,  who  had  followed  her  from  Europe  to 
New  Orleans,  followed  her  also  to  their  grand- 
father's. The  gentle-hearted  old  man  w^as  overcome 
with  joy  at  seeing  them.  His  expressions  of  de- 
light and  gratitude  really  awoke  some  response  of 
affection  in  the  hearts  of  his  selfish  grandchildren, 
Victor  and  Xatika. 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.         93 

Mark  attracted  them  also.  Natika  was  very  glad 
she  had  come  to  visit  her  grandfather,  and  she  made 
herself  fascinatinij:  and  charming;  to  her  crrandfather 
and  to  her  cousins.  Her  feelino-s  to  i\lark  she 
scarcely  understood  herself.  Siie  felt  the  nearest 
approach  to  love,  pure  and  unselfish,  towards  Mark, 
that  she  ever  was  conscious  of  experiencing  in  all 
her  life.  But  she  knew  that  any  passion  for  Mark 
was  a  foolish  expenditure  of  sentiment.  He  could 
never  marry,  as  he  was;  and  if  he  ever  did,  Xatika 
feared  that  it  would  not  be  her  that  he  would  ask  to 
share  his  lot.  She  believed  it  might  be  Panola ! 
She  was  wiser  than  Panola,  and  could  read  all  the 
signs  of  passion,  even  when  repressed  by  Mark's 
resolute  will,  and  she  did  not  like  Panola  any  the 
better  for  that. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CHEROKEE    JOE    SUSPECTS. 

MARK  was  sitting  in  his  usual  place  by  his 
study  table,  busily  reading  a  medical  work 
which  the  servant,  by  his  direction,  had  brought 
to  him  out  of  his  grandfather's  fine  library.  Old 
Docteur  Cauonge  had  a  passion  for  books,  was  a 


94  PANOLA. 

great  render  himself,  and  a  good  writer  in  his  own 
language.  He  had  written  much  for  medical  works 
and  reviews,  and  he  was  also  a  good  bookbinder. 
His  father,  an  emigre  of  distinction  from  the 
troublous  times  in  France,  had  had  his  son  carefully 
instructed  in  this  trade,  while  he  gave  him  oppor- 
tunities of  improvement  in  his  professional  studies. 
He  said  :  "  It  was  very  well  to  be  Monsieur  the 
Marquis  de  Canonge  ;  but  the  Docteur  Canonge  and 
the  bookbinder  Canonge  could  make  bread  for  him- 
self when  the  ]\larquis  could  not."  So  the  old 
docteur  had  kept  up  for  amusement  the  trade  his 
father  had  taught  him  in  prudent  care  for  the  future. 
His  library  was  therefore  not  only  beautiful  in  con- 
tents, but  it  was  likewise  beautiful  in  exterior;  for 
he  had  rebound  every  vol  a  me  nearly  with  his  own 
careful  hands,  and  his  books,  next  to  Mark,  were 
the  pride  of  his  life. 

Mark  sat  reading  for  some  hours,  undisturbed  by 
voice  or  noise.  There  was  no  sound  except  the 
pleasant  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  great  tree-tops, 
and  the  singino-  of  the  innumerable  birds  with 
which  the  country  abounds.  High  above  all  and 
through  all  was  heard  the  gush  of  irrepressible  joy 
which  flows  in  a  liquid  melody  (almost  perpetually, 
it  seems)  from  the  throats  of  the  mocking-birds. 
Docteur  Canonge  petted  the  birds ;  he  never  allowed 
them  to  be  disturbed,  and  they  were  not  timid  in  his 
grounds,  where  a  shot  was  never  fired,  out  of  con- 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.         95 

sideration  for  them.  So  it  was  a  sort  of  bird  para- 
dise, where  they  loved  and  quarrelled  and  fouglit 
and  sung  all  day  and  all  night  long.  The  sound 
of  cattle  bells,  the  lowing  of  cows,  the  bleating  of 
sheep,  and  all  the  lovely  country  tones,  came  softened 
from  the  distant  pastures  and  farm-yards ;  and  oc- 
casionally the  merry  laugh  of  a  good-humored 
negro  as  he  wended  his  way  past  the  house,  in  ex- 
changing homely  compliments  with  Lizbette,  would 
reach  Mark's  ear  as  he  sat  reading  in  his  lonely 
chamber. 

The  day  was  far  advanced  into  tlie  afternoon 
when  Victor  came  in,  flushed  from  riding.  He 
flung  his  hat  and  whip  on  one  chair,  and  himself  on 
another.  Mark  good-humoredly  looked  uj)  from 
his  book  ;  he  was  fond  of  Victor. 

"Had  a  pleasant  ride,  Victor?"  he  asked. 

"Very  pleasant,  indeed.  I  went  over  to  see 
IVIiss  Flanoy  and  the  Duplessis,  ^all  zie  families  Du- 
I'dessisj  "  said  Victor,  laughingly  imitating  his  grand- 
father. "  What  merry  people  they  are  !  None  but 
French  people  could  live  that  way — all  on  one 
place,  in  those  little,  separate  cottages  clustered 
around  Monsieur  Duplessis  pere\s  house!  Just  like 
the  old  Trojans — king  Priam  and  his  family  !  They 
are  so  harmonious  and  perfectly  content.  Ameri- 
cans or  English  would  quarrel.  It  is  because  the 
French  are  so  courteous  to  each  other  in  their  daily 
life.     An  American  or  Englishman  thinks  it  not 


96  PANOLA. 

worth  while  to  be  so  polite,  or  to  pay  amiable  things 
to  members  of  his  own  family.  He  is  half  ashamed 
of  his  best  sentiments,  and  only  parades  his  disagree- 
able ones  ;  while  a  Frenchman  expresses  his  emo- 
tions, and  is  not  ashamed  to  love  or  be  polite  every 
day,  '  as  well  as  on  holy  days.' '' 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  what 
you  say,  but  it  is  partly  because  the  Englishman  or 
American  is  afraid  of  being  dishonest  or  false,  and 
of  exaggeration  in  his  sentiments.  But  perhaps  it 
is  the  better  fault,  if  I  may  say  so,  to  err  in  excess 
of  appearance  of  amiability,  even  if  it  be  not  entirely 
sincere.  I  believe  with  Bain,  in  his  '  Psychology,' 
that  the  cultivation  of  our  moral  or  any  other 
mode  or  quality  of  thought  or  character,  is  vitally 
important,  and  if  we  keep  a  resolute  habit  of  cheer- 
fulness and  of  amiability,  it  will  gradually  become 
strong  and  confirmed  in  us  to  a  real  involuntary 
quality  of  mind  or  manner." 

"So,  then,  you  believe  conscience  is  not  innate, 
but  an  educated  proclivity  of  the  rational  soul, 
Mark  ? ''  said  Victor,  sententiously,  laughing  with 
his  eyes. 

"  Yes.  "While  I  think  that  one  receives  from  the 
circumstances  of  birth  a  proclivity  to  understand 
right  or  wrong,  the  true  way  to  acquire  moral  sense 
is  to  do  the  thing  that  is  right,"  replied  Mark, 
earnestly. 

"Then  if  one  dees  habitually  wrong,  one  blunts 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.         97 

his  conscience  until  at  last  he  won't  have  any,"  per- 
sisted Victor. 

"  Pretty  much  so,  I  think.  We  generally  end  in 
being  what  we  only  seem  at  first." 

"Kather  hard  lines  on  a  poor  fellow  like  mo, 
Mark,"  said  Victor,  laughing.  "  I  fear  I  am  dete- 
riorating dreadfully  and  will  soon  be  worse  off  than 
Peter  Schlemil  was  without  his  shadow,  if  I  lose 
all  my  conscience  !     I  don't  half  like  the  prospect." 

"  Every  evil  action  you  do,  Victor,  blunts  your 
moral  sense  and  degrades  you  as  an  ^  intelligent,'  as 
Kant  calls  it,"  insisted  Mark. 

"  Confound  it,  don't  preach,  ]\Iark,"  said  Victor, 
springing  up.  "  You  make  a  fellow  feel  bad. 
Nobody  wishes  to  be  degraded  in  his  humanity 
because  he  gives  way  a  little  to  youthful  folly  now 
and  then." 

"  It  is  not  I — it  is  the  Nemesis  of  fixed  laws  of 
sequence  that  2)ronounces  the  doom,  Victor,"  said 
Mark.  "  You  know  yourself  that  the  muscles  and 
nerves  you  use  the  most  are  the  strongest.  It  is  so 
in  mental  and  moral  life." 

"Ah,  bah ! "  said  Victor.  "  Let  me  tell  you 
about  my  ride,  and  the  fair  Panola.  It  is  surpris- 
ing what  a  beauty  that  little  pale  white  creature  has 
developed  into.  I  had  quite  an  eventful  ride. 
Just  as  I  came  in  sight  of  the  place  I  met  Cherokee 
Joe  lounging  along  the  road,  his  blanket  stra[)ped 
around  him,  and  his  riile  on  his  shoulder,  with  a 
6 


08  PANOLA. 

couple  of  mangy  curs  at  his  heels.  He  was  going 
out  to  shoot  on  the  prairie.  I  stopped  to  ask  him 
about  the  shooting.  He  says  there  are  plenty  of 
blue  and  green  winged  teal,  and  snipe  too,  frequent- 
ing on  what  he  calls  *  the  ponds/  scattered  about  in 
this  interminable  prairie.  How  long  is  this  prairie 
land?  Where  does  it  end  ?  Has  it  a  beginning? 
I  am  inclined  to  doubt  if  it  has.  It  is  prairie, 
prairie,  everywhere,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  with  those 
little  spots  of  woods  that  fringe  the  aforesaid  '  ponds ' 
in  the  low  places,  which  are  nothing  but  the  drain- 
age places  of  this  prairie.^' 

^'  The  prairie  extends  over  two  hundred  miles," 
said  Mark,  "  back  to  the  Sabine  river,  the  division 
line  between  Louisiana  and  Texas.  It  begins  in 
the  lowlands  on  the  Mississippi  river.  Then  comes 
the  'Cotes  Gelees,'  which  are  rather  more  undulating 
than  the  lowlands;  then  the  flat  rolling  prairie  of 
the  Attakapas  region — a  real  sea  of  grass,  green  and 
billowy,  not  of  sage  brushes,  like  the  northern  and 
western  prairies,  and  there  are  an  immense  number  of 
those  'ponds,' as  you  call  them,  scattered  all  through 
it ;  famous  spots  for  ducks  and  snipe,  I  know." 

"  Joe  said,"  continued  Victor,  "  that  there  were 
plenty  of  partridges,  too,  on  the  prairie.  I  shall  go 
out  soon  and  try  my  luck  at  them.  What  a  queer 
fellow  that  Joe  is,  Mark !  A  real  Indian.  Pie 
seems  much  more  adapted  to  the  outward  gear  of  the 
Indian  as  he  was  to-day,  than  when  he  accompanies 


CnEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.         99 

the  fair  Panola  as  an  escort  in  modern  toggery. 
An  Indian  should  never  give  up  his  blanket.  lie 
wears  that  or  dressed  skins  with  grace.  He  looks 
worse  without  it  than  a  Roman  senator  without  his 
toga.  The  blanket  belongs  to  the  Indian,  and  the 
variegated  head  handkerchief  to  the  African,  and 
the  turban  to  the  Orientals !  They  never  look  well 
without  these  adjuncts.  I  may  as  well  smoke  while 
we  talk,"  and  Victor  drew  out  his  cigar  case, 
selected  a  cigar  for  Mark  and  one  for  himself,  took 
out  a  small  silver  match-box,  lighted  his  cigar,  then 
offered  it  to  Mark  to  light  his  from. 

These   important  operations  were  performed   in 
silence  and  solemnity.     Then  after  a  few  prepara- 
tory puffs  from  both,  Victor  began  again.     "  Well, 
as  I  was  saying,  I  met  Joe  swinging  himself  in  that 
Indian  trot,  putting  one  foot   straight  before  the 
other,  and  glancing,  in  that  quick,  suspicious,  rest- 
less way  they  all  have  of  looking,  on  every  side  of 
him.     By  the  way,  Mark,  that  is  the  only  thing  that 
spoils  Panola.     She  even  has  retained  that  restless, 
rapid  glancing  of  the  eyes,  though  in  her  it  reminds 
one  of  the  quick,  bright  eyes  of  the  water-fowl,  like 
the  kingfisher.     Joe,  confound  his  ugly  phiz,  looks 
more  like  an  old,  suspicious,  gaunt  wolf.     Well,  Joe 
and  I  had  quite  a  bng  talk.     At  least  I  talked  and 
Joe  said  'ugh'  with  a  wonderful  variety  of  inflec- 
tions in  his  grunts.     It  is  almost  a  vocabulary  in 
itself,  the  '  ugh  '  of  an  Indian.     I  asked  Joe  if  Miss 
Panola  was  at  home. 


100  PANOLA. 

" '  Panola  stay  home  to-day/  said  the  unceremo- 
nious Indian,  ignoring  the  title  of  Miss' entirely. 
*  Joe  go  hunt.  Panola  stay  with  mother,  with 
Chicora.'^' 

*'Yes.  That's  Mrs.  Flanoy's  Indian  name/'  put 
in  Mark,  taking  his  cigar  out  of  his  lips  to  give 
vent  to  a  puff  of  smoke. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  These  are  delicious 
Havanas,  I  declare!  See  how  long  the  ash  holds 
on  to  the  end  of  the  cigar.  We  never  get  such  in 
Europe." 

"I  really  believe  (puff)  that  I  prefer  (puff)  a 
Powhatan  pipe  with  good  perrique,"  replied  Mark, 
with  intervals  of  smoke  between  his  words.  "  It 
means  (puff)  'Jlocldng  Bird,^  or,  as  it  is  in  full 
Cherokee,  ^  Chicora  Chee-squah-con-nau-gee-tah' — 
'  The  bird  that  sing  the  best.' — Chicora  was  famous 
for  her  beauty  and  singularly  sweet  voice — a  qual- 
ity of  voice  often  found  in  Indian  women." 

"Well,  this  'mocking-bird'  that  I  saw  to-day 
was  quite  different  from  her  sisters  in  the  tree 
branches  about  her  house.  Her  singing  and  danc- 
ing is  all  done  for.     She  is  rather  a  dusky  old  bird 


now." 


"Chicora!  Why,  I  tliink  her  still  beautiful. 
What  a  fellow  you  are,  Victor/'  said  Mark,  half- 
smiling,  in  spite  of  himself  "  You  ought  to  feel 
sympathy  for  that  poor  afflicted  woman.  Anybody 
else  would." 


CHEROKEE    JOE     SUSPECTS.       101 

"  So  I  am,  dreadfully  sorry.  Panola  is  so  very 
pretty.  Well,  Joe  said  Panola  would  stay  with 
Chicora  to-day.  'Chicora  velly  bad/  said  Joe, 
shakin^x  his  wild  Indian  locks  solemnly,  and  reo;ard- 
ing  me  with  a  curious,  half-questioning  look  out 
of  his  contracted  eyes.  Ilis  pupils  gleamed  out 
like  a  black  lynx's.  Indians  are  not  evolved  yet 
wholly  out  of  fierce  beasts  into  perfect  humanity. 
'Chicora  not  move  hands  now  any  more,'  and  will 
you  believe  it,  Mark,  the  fellow's  keen  eyes  actually 
twinkled  through  tears  that  he  would  not  let  fall. 

"MVhat  do  you  mean,  eloe?'  I  asked,  beginning 
to  feel  somewhat  alarmed  about  going  to  the  house. 
'  Is  .]\Irs.  Flanoy  ill  ?  Are  you  afraid  she  is  going 
to  die  ? ' 

"'No,  Chicora  not  die  to-day — not  yet — she  die 
bime-by.  Hands  stiif  now.  Soon  head  get  stiff, 
then  heart  get  stiff,  and  Chicora  die.  Joe  sorry, 
Joe  much  sorry  for  Chicora.  Satana  be  velly 
sorry.  He  like  Chicora  heap — plenty  much. 
Tribe  be  sorry  ;  all  Cherokecs  cry ;  plenty,  heap  ! 
Ugh!' 

*'  'What's  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Flanoy,  Joe?' 

" '  Joe  not  know.  Canonge  he  not  know.  Xo- 
body  know.  Kana  say  "  conj ure."  You  know 
Nana,  Victor  Burthe.' 

"'No,  Joe,  I  have  not  that  honor.  Who  is 
Nana?' 

"'Nana  ole  nigger  'ooman,  hundred  year  ole — go 


102  PANOLA. 

so!'  And  Joe  bent  himself  down  nearly  double, 
and  crept  feebly  forward,  imitating  the  old  crone. 
He  has  talent,  has  Joe.  Then  he  straightened  him- 
self upright,  and  spat  upon  the  earth,  in  token  of 
his  intense  disgust,  and  said  ^ugh,'  scornfully. 
How  Indians  do  hate  negroes,  Mark." 

"  Yes !  Mrs.  Flanoy  will  only  use  white  ser- 
vants about  her  person.'' 

"  Well !  This  primitive  gentleman — for  Joe  has 
all  the  characteristics  of  a  gentleman,  you  know : 
he  hates  work,  and  loves  sport  and  idleness — " 

^'And  whiskey,"  put  in  Mark. 

''  Yes,  and  whiskey,  as  much  as  any  Scotch  or 
Irish  gentleman  of  high  degree.  This  noble  red 
man  gave  me  to  understand  that  Nana  was  a  witch; 
that  she  ought  to  be  killed,  but  there  was  no  way 
to  scalp  her,  as  she  hadn't  a  hair  on  her  old  bald 
head ;  and  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  kill  her,  for 
she  could  chano-e  herself  into  anvthino-  she  chose — a 
cat,  or  dog,  or  even  into  a  snake,  and  then  reassume 
her  human  form — that  she  was  much  petted,  and 
noticed  by  ^  Madame  Boiling.' 

"^You  know  Madame  Boiling?'  asked  Joe, 
looking  queerly  up  into  my  face,  as  I  sat  above  him 
on  my  horse. 

"  I  told  him  '  I  had  that  felicity.'  '  Ugh !'  said 
Joe,  puzzled  by  the  word  felicity.  '  Ugh  !  you  likee 
Madame  Boiling  velly  much,  Victor  Burthe?' 

"  I  told  him  I  was  passionately  devoted  to  her  in 
her  absence. 


CHEROKEE    JOE     SUSPECTS.       103 

"  Joe  looked  at  mc.  *  Ugh/  he  said.  lie  did 
not  quite  comprehend  my  meaning.  Then  he 
put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  pulled  out  a  very- 
dirty  purse  made  of  deer-skin.  He  opened  it,  took 
out  a  couple  of  papers.  One  had  a  fine  white  powder 
in  it.     Joe  handed  it  up  to  me. 

"'What  that?'  he  asked.  'You  know,  Victor 
Burthe?' 

"  I  smelled  the  paper,  looked  at  the  powder,  took 
the  least  particle  possible  of  it  on  my  finger  tip,  and 
touched  my  tongue  with  it,  being  very  careful  to 
spit  it  out,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  That  was  very  foolish,  Victor.  It  might  have 
been  arsenic  or  morphine,''  interrupted  Mark. 

"  Well,  the  Indian  wanted  to  know,  and  how  the 

d 1  was  I  to  tell  hira  unless  I  examined?  "  said 

Victor,  lightly.  "  However  my  rashness  caused  no 
harm,  for  it  was  only  tartar  emetic,  and  I  told  Joe 
it  was  that. 

*'  'You  makee  him  lemonade?'  asked  the  Indian. 
I  suppose  he  had  heard  of  cream  of  tartar  lopion- 
ade. 

"'Good  Lord,  no,'  I  said,  ^maJce  lemonade!  Why 
it  would  kill  you;  make  you  sick;  it  is  medicine.' 
Then  I  explained  to  Joe  how  it  was  used.  Joe  lis- 
tened attentively,  his  face  bent  down  over  the  paper 
of  powder. 

"  '  Canonge,  he  give  it  ? '  asked  Joe. 

"  I  said  I  supposed  he  did  often  give  it. 


104  PANOLA. 

"^Ugh/  said  Joe,  and  he  put  the  paper,  carefully 
■^Trapped  up,  back  iuto  his  old  dirty  purse,  as  if  it 
was  })recious. 

"  ^  You  had  better  throw  it  away,  Joe,'  I  said. 

"  ^  No,  Joe  not  throw  away.  Joe  take  to  Satana, 
bime-by.     Ugh.' 

"I  wonder  w^hat  the  chief  wall  do  with  such  a 
present?  Then  Joe  opened  another  little  paper 
which  had  some  peas  in  it. 

"'What  that?'  said  the  foolish  Indian,  pouring 
the  peas  into  my  hand. 

"  *  That?     Why  those  are  peas.' 

" '  What  good  for  ?     Medicine  too  ? ' 

"^No.  Good  to  eat,  you  silly  fellow,  like  all 
other  peas.' 

' ' '  Ugh !  You  likee  eat  peas?  Joe  give  you  some.' 
And  he  took  a  small  parcel  of  them,  and  gav^e  them 
to  me.     '  Eatee  some,  Victor  Burthe  ! ' 

" '  Xo,  I  thank  you,  Joe.  When  I  eat  peas  I  like 
them  cooked,  not  raw.^ 

"  *Ugh  ! '  Joe  folded  up  his  peas  in  his  piece  of 
paper  and  put  them  into  his  purse.  '  Joe  take  to 
Satana,'  said  Joe,  thoughtfully.  *  Ugh !  got  any 
whiskey,  Victor  Burthe  ?  ' 

"  I  told  him  I  had  not,  but  I  gave  him  a  couple 
of  cigars  and  a  half  dollar  to  buy  whiskey,  and  Joe 
shouldered  his  gun,  and  with  a  parting  *  ugh '  he 
trotted  off,  and  I  galloped  on. 

"Well,  I  had  already  passed  the  little  place  called 


CHEROKEE  JOE  SUSPECTS.   105 

the  Pavilion,  where  Mrs.  Boiling  lives  now ;  you 
know  it  is  just  outside  the  Flanoy  place,  not  more 
than  a  stone's  throw  from  the  gates  ;  you  remember 
the  yard  runs  down  to  the  road  of  this  aforesaid 
Pavilion.  AVhat  a  small  affair  it  is  in  the  way  of  a 
house  ! " 

"  It  has  four  rooms  in  it/'  said  ^lark,  '^  and  is 
built,  like  all  the  other  houses  in  this  county,  of  one 
story.  "We  can't  build  high,  you  know,  on  account 
of  the  strong  winds  which  blow  over  this  prairie 
country,  coming  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico;  they 
would  blow  dowu  lofty  houses." 

^^  AVell,  it  looks  very  modest,  but  is  snug  enough, 
I  dare  say,  and  large  enough  too,  for  Madame 
Boiling's  requirements.  It  is  rather  picturesque, 
with  the  luxuriant  vines  trained  on  wires  all  around 
the  verandah.  I  had  already  got  past,  when  I  was 
hailed  by  Antony  Coolidge,  who  was  standing  at 
the  gate,  with  his  arms  folded  on  the  top  of  it,  like 
'  Yankee  Doodle  dandy.' " 

" '  Who  swung  upon  the  gates, 
And  licked  'lasses  candy,'  " 

laughed  Mark. 

"  Yes,  exactly,  barring  the  candy.  Unfortunately 
for  the  rhyme,  on  this  occasion  Yankee  Doodle  was 
smoking  a  cigarette.  He  invited  me  to  stop,  and  as 
I  had  no  good  reason  for  declining  his  invitation, 
and  wasn't  pressed  for  time,  I  concluded  I  would 
get   off  my  horse  for  a   minute.     I  don't   dislike 


106  PANOLA. 

Antony,  at  least  comparatively  speaking :  he  is  less 
disagreeable  to  me  than  liis  mainnia,  that  ^  veuve 
charmante/  as  our  respected  and  beloved  progeni- 
tor calls  her.  The  truth  was  I  wanted  to  see  the 
inside  of  *  the  shebang.'  " 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Victor,  don't  use  so  much 
slang.  AVhy  can't  you  talk  respectably  decent  Eng- 
lish, or  French,  if  you  like?"  said  Mark,  smiling. 

"  Because  I  am  talking  American  and  about 
American  people  ;  very  truly  and  positively  Ameri- 
can people.  Aboriginal  Americans,  like  the  fair 
Panola  and  the  old  Mocking  Bird,"  replied  the  incor- 
rigible Victor.  "  I  shall  tell  my  story  in  my  own 
style,  Mark,  if  you  choose  to  listen,  and,  unlike  the 
amiable  Scherazade,  I  detest  interruptions,  especially 
when  they  are  criticisms." 

"On  with  you  then,  you  incorrigible  fellow,'^ 
said  ]\Iark,  good-huraoredly.  "You  accepted  An- 
tony's invitation  and  went  into  the — " 

"Shebang,"  interposed  Victor.  "It  w^as  really 
beautiful  in  the  verandah ;  it  was  literally  cur- 
tained in  with  an  enormous  bean  vine,  a  lineal 
descendant  of  Jack's  bean-stalk." 

"  It  is  a  cork-screw  bean.  They  do  grow  to  a 
most  extraordinary  size  here,"  interrupted  Mark. 

"This  one  fellow  twisted  himself  all  around  the 
verandah,  and  was  hanging  thick  with  the  greatest 
profusion  of  purple  and  yellow  flowers,  and  the 
perfume  was  nearly  overpowering,  it  was  so  strong. 


CHEROKEE    JOE     SUSPECTS.      107 

Antony  took  me  inside.  It  is  very  nice  inside  tlie 
house  too.  AVe  found  that  jNIadanie  ^Icre  was  in 
the  garden.  So  we  went  out  there.  The  house  was 
filled  with  pets — dogs  and  cats  and  canary  birds." 

"  The  African  nature  delights  in  pets,"  observed 
Mark,  thoughtfully. 

"Precisely!  oh,  supreme  wonder  among  psycho- 
logists," said  Victor,  waving  his  cigar  towards 
!Mark.  "  There  was  also  a  green  parrot  who  swore 
astonishingly  in  French.  Does  your  stepmother 
indulge  in  that  luxury  also,  Mark  ?" 

"  Pshaw,"  said  Mark,  not  deigning  to  resent  the 
impertinent  inquiry. 

"Ah,"  said  Victor,  giving  a  long  puff,  and  then 
knocking  the  ash  from  the  end  of  his  cigar,  where  it 
had  been  tenaciously  accumulating.  "  If  she  doiit, 
where  did  the  parrot  learn  f  However,  w^e  got  into 
the  garden,  a  very  pretty  little  garden  back  of  the 
house,  and  there  we  found  your  highly  revered 
stepmother  in  a  house  dress,  with  a  broad  straw  flat 
tied  down  over  her  head ;  and  quite  liandsome  she 
looked,  and  unusually  wicked  was  the  glance  of  her 
strange  eyes.  I  wish  they  had  more  gradation  in 
the  color  of  the  pupil :  the  dead  black  on  the  dead 
white  of  the  ball  gives  a  reptilish  expression  to  that 
woman  that  all  her  splendor  of  color  am't  over- 
come. I  believe,  Mark,  in  transmigration  of  life 
upwards,  am  half  a  Darwinian,  and  I  am  convinced, 
Mark,  that  your  adorable  stepmother  came  up  into 


108  PANOLA. 

humanity  through  the  snakes ;   she  ^yas  once  either 
a  cobra  di  caj^ella  or  a  flat-headed  viper/' 

"Oh,  Victor!  Victor!" 

"  Truth,  ]\Iark  !  I  must  speak  truth  to  yon, 
even  though  the  sky  should  talk  ^I  can't  tell  a  lie, 
father,'  as  the  father  of  his  country  did  never  say. 
Well,  the  buxom  dame  was  all  smiles  and  welcome. 
She  was  superintending  the  work  of  a  negro  man, 
who  was  spading  some  ground  in  which  she  was 
about  to  plant  some  seeds.  Bending  over  one  of 
the  drills  already  laid  out  was  the  old  negress 
Nana.  I  recognized  her  from  Joe's  personation. 
If  she  is  not  '  a  hundred,'  as  he  said,  she  must  be 
pretty  near  it.  I  never  saw  such  an  old  toothless 
hag  in  my  life,  so  wrinkled;  you  know,  negroes 
don't  wrinkle  like  other  people.  They  are  very  old 
when  the  skin  crumples  up.  This  old  creature  hadn't 
a  hundredth  part  of  an  inch  smooth  on  her  face.  She 
w^ould  have  been  an  admirable  study  for  a  modern 
Andrew  Denner :  vou  know  what  a  devotion  he 
had  for  painting  wrinkles !  She  looked  like  a  min- 
iature rhinoceros,  with  her  crumpled  skin  ;  and  she 
had  got  to  be  so  old,  she  was  a  sort  of  ashen-black- 
gray  in  hue;  all  the  humanity  had  burnt  out  of  her, 
Mark,  ages  ago!  I  think  she  probably  lived  in  the 
period  of  Xineveh  !  She  looked  every  day  of  it ! 
Do  you  know,  Mark — it  is  a  fact,  I  have  been 
assured  so  upon  excellent  authority — that  people 
live  so  long,  sometimes,  that  the  human  soul  dies 


CHEROKEE    JOE     SUSPECTS.       109 

out,  and  then  they  exist  only  from  animal  vital 
forces.  If  Nana  ever  had  a  soul,  whicli  I  doubt 
holdmg  with  you  and  Herbert  Spencer,  and 
Spnioza,  et  als.,  tJiat  the  soul  or  mind  is  only  a 
development,  a  gradual  building  up  from  *the 
experiences  of  ourselves  and  others,  the  concen- 
trated sum  of  the  collected  knowledge  of  past  gen- 
erations, plus  ourselves — " 

"In  that  case  Nana  should  have  had  a  pretty 
large  soul,"  interpolated  Mark,  gravely,  with  his 
eyes  twinklinof. 

"I  have  already  told  you  she  had  burnt  up  her 
souV  replied  Victor,  seriously;  "that's  in  accord- 
ance with  your  deterioration  theory,  you  know' 
She  has  been  such  a  wucked  old  wretch  that  she  has 
acquired  a  habit  of  wickedness.  The  lo-ic  is  inex- 
pugnable !  I  believe  that  Nana,  according  to  my 
theory  of  transmigration,  Avas  once'a  hyena, 

*  Where  Afric's  golden  fountains 
Eoll  o'er  her  sunny  plains.' '' 

^Miere  Afric's  siivtiy  fountains 
Roll  o'er  lier  (julden  plains,'  " 

suggested    Mark.     "You    never  quote   correctly, 
V  let  or.''  "^ ' 

^Victor    shook    liis    fist    menacinglv   at    Mark. 
Criticisms    are    tabooed,"    said    Victor       "This 
everlasting  flower,  of  Africa's  Hesperidean  crarden 
whom  Death  and  Time  have  forgotten,  was  cnc^a.^ed 


110  PANOLA. 

in  stickinG:  small  boles  in  the  Q-round  with  the  end 
of  a  pointed  reed.  She  did  it  venomously,  ]\Iark, 
as  if  she  was  sticking  the  sharp  point  into  the  heart 
of  an  enemy ;  and  when  I  bent  over  to  see  what  she 
was  planting,  behold  !  they  were  the  identical  peas, 
or  the  same  sort  at  least,  that  Cherokee  Joe  had 
shown  to  me  a  half-hour  previously.  I  understood 
at  once  the  foolish  fellow's  superstition  about  the 
innocent  peas.  He  saw  old  Nana  planting  them, 
and  he  believed  them  to  be  uncanny." 

"  Probably,"  said  Mark. 

"Madame  Boiling  saw  my  notice  of  old  Xana's 
work:  ^Are  you  fond  of  flowers,  Mr.  Burthe?'  she 
said ;  'J  am  passionately  so,  especially  of  strong- 
scented  ones !  Don't  you  like  the  sweet  pea  ?  It  is 
a  favorite  of  mine.  Let  me  make  a  bouquet  for  you 
to  give  to  my  niece,  Panola,  as  you  say  you  will 
ride  in  that  direction  presently.' 

"So  saying,  she  gathered  me  a  bouquet;  very  gay 
it  was,  and  the  strongest-smelling  that  ever  I  had ; 
then,  as  I  declined  her  invitation  to  remain  to 
luncheon,  I  took  the  bouquet  and  bade  her  good 
day.  As  soon  as  I  got  out  of  sight  of  Antony,  I 
stuck  the  end  of  my  whip  into  the  flowers,  and 
hoisted  them  up  on  top  of  a  small  thorn  tree,  and 
left  them  to  waste  their  sweetness  there.  I  would 
not  have  transported  those  flowers  to  Panola  for 
five  thousand  dollars.  I  know  they  were  'conjuring 
flowers,'  for  old  Nana  planted  them  and  Mrs.  Bol- 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.        Ill 

ling  gathered  them  ;  and  slie  has  an  'evil  eye/  you 
know,  Mark;  I  do  think  so." 

"  Pish  !  "  ejaculated  Mark  ;  "  what  folly ! '' 
"Well,  after  all  these  delays,  I  at  last  reached  the 
gates  of  the  enchanted  castle — Mrs.  Flanoy^s  large, 
wide-spreading,  hospitable  mansion,  of  which  Liz- 
bette  says,  *  Every  room  opens  charmingly  on  the 
gallery,  and  it  has  twenty  rooms.'    I  think  it  covers 
an  acre  and  a  half  of  ground,  on  a  moderate  calcu- 
lation.    It  is  quite  handsome,  and  altogether  civil- 
ized and  Christian-like,  not  at  all   on  the  wigwam 
orderof  architecture,  as  I  had  half  expected  it  to  be. 
Indeed  the  salon  was  really  French  in  its  fittings-up, 
but  I  am   not   upholsterer   enough  to  describe  it, 
secmndiim  artem.     A  neat,  well-dressed,  white  foot- 
man received  my  card,  and  conducted  me  through 
the  wide,  cool  hall  into  a  side-gallery,  and  at  length 
into  a  pretty  salon,  in  which  I  found  Mademoiselle 
Panola,  who  came  forward  to  greet  me.     Then  she 
led  me  up  to  a  large  lounge,  on  which  lay  a  figure 
that  might  have  been  carved  out  of  stone,  so  motion- 
less was  it.     A  rose-colored,  silk  quilt,  filled  with 
eider-down,  lay  spread  over  it  up  to  the  throat,  and 
above  the  quilt,  looking  as  if  it  was  disconnected 
with  any    body,   visible  or   invisible,   lay  a   head. 
Good   Lord!    what  a   head!     All    the   fire,  force 
vitality  and  strength  of  a  whole  human  life  was 
concentrated  into  that  face;    the  whole  body  was 
dead  but  that ;  the  eyes,  large,  dark  and  sad,  but 


112  PANOLA. 

with  a  preternatural  lustre,  showed  a  tremendous 
will,  a  concentration  of  the  essence  of  an  immense 
physical  nature.  I  shall  nev^er  forget  those  eyes  and 
that  face!  The  features  are  not  unlike  Panola's: 
the  same  firm,  delicate  outline;  the  slightly  aquiline 
nose ;  the  mouth,  originally  sweet  and  haughty,  like 
Panola's,  now  compressed  into  thinness  by  intense 
strain  of  will.  It  was  the  incarnation  of  will — 
defiant  will — and  yet  with  a  queer,  sad  beauty.  The 
eyes  looked  up  into  mine  with  an  eager,  wistful, 
hungry  gaze,  and  with  such  a  magnetic  power  that 
it  seemed  to  me  I  felt  my  soul  swaying  under 
the  magic  of  the  glance !  Such  passion,  such 
self-mastery,  such  pride!  God!  it  was  terrible! 
I  stood  dumb  before  her ;  when,  at  last,  the  lips 
moved,  and  a  voice  with  the  sound  of  music  itself 
said:  ^You  are  welcome,  Mr.  Burthe!'  Twenty 
years  ago,  when  that  woman  was  young,  Mark,  few 
men's  hearts  would  not  have  yielded  to  the  magic 
of  that  voice  and  that  face.  Her  complexion  is  not 
white  or  satiny,  like  Panola's,  but  it  is  a  rich, 
whitish  pink  with  a  bronze  glow  through  it ;  and 
her  cheeks  and  lips,  perhaps  from  disease,  near  the 
red  of  the  pomegranate  flower.  But  her  eyes  !  they 
are  the  wonder!  Oh!  that  splendid,  noble,  impris- 
oned, womanly  soul !  God !  Mark  !  you  don't 
know  how  I  longed  to  help  that  woman  !  She  lay 
there  as  if  under  the  spell  of  some  enchantment, 
with  none  to  help  her.     I  sj^oke  lightly  of  her, 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.       113 

Mark,  when  we  began  to  talk,  but  you  sec  I  do  not 
feel  lightly.  I  can  coniprehond  Joe's  devotion,  and 
the  deep  love  of  all  around  her — even  of  Sataua, 
the  chief!  One  could  adore  her!  She  seemed  to 
like  me. 

"  I  stayed  fully  an  hour  there,  talking  to  her 
and  to  Panola ;  and  I  took  lunch  there.  Panola 
played  wonderful  things  on  her  Straduarius,  and  I 
sung  a  good  deal ;  Mrs.  Flanoy  asked  me,  and  I 
was  very  glad  to  do  it.  I  don't  know  when  I  should 
have  got  away,  but  one  of  the  footmen  came  in 
with  a  note  on  a  silver  tray,  which  he  presented 
ceremoniously  to  Panola. 

"  'It  is  for  you,  mamma,'  said  Panola. 

"  It  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  ^laria  Josepha  Flanoy, 
so  you  see  she  is  not  the  '  Mocking-bird '  to  every- 
body." 

"Xo,"  said  Mark;  "she  has  been  christened 
^laria  Josepha." 

''Well,  then,  I  rode  home  as  fast  as  I  could.  As  I 
passed  the  thorn  tree,  I  saw  that  a  very  curious 
crow  had  picked  my  evil  bouquet  off  the  branch, 
and  having  it  now  on  the  ground,  was  conveniently 
tearing^  it  into  frao-ments  with  his  beak  and  claws. 
He  gave  an  ominous  caw  as  I  approached,  and  flew 
away  like  a  bad,  black  spirit ;  and  you  now  behold 
me  here.  Here  endeth  the  narration  of  Victor,  the 
son  of  Victor,  the  son  of  Philippe,  the  son  of — " 

"Spare  the  genealogy!"  cried  Mark,  holding 
7 


114  PANOLA. 

up  his  hands  in  entreaty,  as  Victor  paused  to  take 
breath.     Victor  replied  by  singing  exquisitely: 

"  Tliere  be  none  of  beauty's  daughters 
With  a  face  like  thee ; 
And  like  music  on  the  waters 
Is  thy  voice  to  me." 

Whilst  singing,  he  rose  and  walked  out  of  the 
room,  saying  he  would  go  look  for  Natika. 

"She's  gone  out  to  drive  with  grandfather," 
called  out  Mark  after  him,  as  he  disappeared  through 
the  doorway. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  opened,  and  Victor 
put  in  his  head  again. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that,  as  I  returned,  I 
made  a  detour  through  the  village  to  get  our  mail 
matter,  and  as  I  came  back,  who  should  I  see  in  the 
midst  of  the  highway,  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
laughing  children  and  idle  men,  but  Cherokee  Joe  ; 
who  had  spent  my  half  dollar  in  getting  gloriously 
drunk.  There  the  poor  fellow  was  in  high  glee, 
singing  a  wild  Indian  song,  boastful  of  his  triumphs 
in  love  and  war,  I  suppose,  from  the  pantomime 
with  which  he  accompanied  it.  He  danced  the  war- 
dance,  hopping  slowly  and  solemnly,  first  on  one  leg 
and  then  on  the  other,  round  and  round  in  a  circle ; 
then  stopping  suddenly,  he  gave  a  swift  run  for- 
ward, scatterino^  the  children  riirht  and  left  as  he 
dashed  through  them  ;   seizing  his  hatchet,  which 


CHEROKEE     JOE     SUSPECTS.      115 

was  swinging  by  a  leather  tliong  to  his  girdle,  he 
brandislicd  it  fiercely;  putting  one  hand  to  his 
mouth,  he  gave  utterance  to  a  tremendous  war- 
whoop,  and  threw  the  hatchet  as  he  sprang  forward, 
with  immense  force.  It  flew  past  my  head,  and 
struck  a  tree  at  which  he  seemed  to  have  aimed  it. 
I  should  not  liked  to  have  been  the  tree!  Then  he 
cauirht  a  lonsj  blow-s^un  out  of  the  hands  of  one  of 
the  little  children,  who  had  been  playing  with  it — 
some  one  had  taken  his  own  rifle  away  from  him, 
for  fear  of  mischief,  I  suppose.  He  seized  the  blow- 
gun,  and  lifting  it  to  his  mouth,  the  arrow  whizzed 
past  me,  and  struck  into  the  tree  just  above  the 
hatchet.  You  never  saw  truer  shots.  Theu  he 
looked  around  for  admiration  and  applause,  de- 
lighted at  the  children's  notice  and  laughter,  which 
he  esteemed  to  be  complimentary.  Catching  sight 
of  me,  his  mood  seemed  to  change  to  a  softer  one, 
or  perhaps  the  maudlin  stage  was  coming  on.  So, 
singing  some  Indian  words,  in  which  I  distinguished 
the  sounds  of  Chicora  and  Panola,  he  sat  himself 
down  on  a  bank  by  the  roadside  under  the  shade  of 
the  hedge,  and  began  to  weep,  swaying  his  body  to 
and  fro,  in  sort  of  cadenccd  lament ;  occasionally 
giving  utterance  to  a  prolonged  howl  that  was 
unearthly.  Then  he  grew  stupid ;  lying  down 
on  the  grass,  he  fell  asleeji,  and  there  I  left 
him." 

"  He  is  very  strong,''  said  Mark.     "  I  have  seen 


116  PANOLA. 

him  often  bend  a  bar  of  very  thick  iron  in  his 
hands,  as  if  it  were  only  wire.'^ 

"Well,  a  nap  in  the  open  air  will  refresh  hira. 
Poor  wretch  !  one  can  scarcely  believe  hini  to  be  of 
the  same  race  as  Panola  and  that  grand  Chicora.'' 

"  The  blood  of  the  Netherlander  has  something 
to  do  with  Panola/^  said  Mark.  "  Chicora  is  only 
a  half-breed.'^ 

"If  there  are  any  more  like  Chicora,  in  her 
tribe,"  said  Victor,  "it  would  be  worth  while 
mounting  hunting-shirts  and  moccasins,  and  living 
in  a  wigwam,  to  see  such  a  woman  as  she  must  have 
been  in  her  full  youth  and  health.  Now,  senhor, 
truly,  adios ! ''  said  the  volatile  Victor. 

"  Vaya  con  Dios,"  responded  !Mark,  gayly. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MUCH-MARRIED    LIZBETTE. 

DOCTEUR  CAXOXGE  stood  in  the  library, 
stirring  slowly  with  his  spoon  the  cup  of 
smoking^-hot  coffee  which  Lizbette  had  sent  to  him. 
He  had  been  up  nearly  all  the  night  previous  with 
a  poor  sick  neighbor,  and  he  looked  rather  paler 
and  thinner  and  more  cadaverous  than  usual,  though 


MUCH-MARRIED     LIZBETTE.        117 

Ills  smile  was  as  sweet  as  the  sunshine  itself,  which 
was  pouring  in  a  flood  of  golden  light  through  the 
open  window  near  which  the  gentle  old  man  was 
standing,  talking  to  Mark  and  Victor.  Natika 
came  in.  "  Grandpapa,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  want 
you  to  drive  with  me  to  see  Mrs.  Flanoy  this  morn- 
ing ;  can't  you?" 

Docteur  Canonge  smiled.  *^  I  haf  leetle  doubt 
zat  I  willy  Natika,  if  you  so  desire.  I  did  tink  of 
finishing  my  article  on  comparative  mythologie  zis 
morning  for  zie  Academic  Fran9aise;  but  zat  can 
wait.  I  shall  also  be  ver'  glad  to  ccHisulte  Chicora 
about  zie  Cherokee  version  of  zie  myth  zat  I  now 
am  attempting  to  explain." 

"And  what  is  that,  grandpapa  ?  "  said  Xatika. 

*'  It  is  zie  pretty  leetle  story  of  Bo-peep  and  her 
sheep  zat  she  did  lose." 

"And  how  do  you  explain  that,  grandpapa?" 

"  I  have  traced  zis  leetle  myth  through  many  of 
zie  derivative  languages  from  zie  Aryan,  among  all 
zie  people  of  zat  blood  and  race ;  and  I  have  con- 
clude zat  zis  leetle  myth  represent  zie  dawn  as  usual 
wiz  her  clouds,  which  were  often  called  'sheep.'" 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Victor,  "Shelley  speaks  of 
them — the  clouds  '  shepherded  by  the  wind.'  " 

"  Yes.  I  am  much  obliged,  Victor,  for  zie  sug- 
gestion of  zose  lines  of  Shelley." 

"  But  what  about  the  '  tails  '  of  Bo-peep's  sheep  ?" 
asked  Xatika,  gayly.     "  Clouds  have  none." 


118  PANOLA. 

"Yes,  they  have/'  interposed  Mark.  "Sailors 
call  those  sweeping,  streaky  clouds, '  mares'  tails.''' 

"  Yes,"  said  Docteur  Canonge,  nodding  his  head 
a})proviugly. 

"But,''  remonstrated  Natika,  "those  are  rain 
clouds,  not  dawn  clouds ;  or  at  any  rate  they  are 
foretellers  of  rain." 

Docteur  Canonge's  face  fell. 

"  But,"  suggested  Mark,  "  it  is  all  one.  It  may 
be  meant  that  Bo-peep's  dawn  was  not  a  clear  one." 

Docteur  Canono;e  looked  bricrhter. 

"I  think,"  said  Victor,  "  the  myth  meant  the  sun 
and  stars,  especially  comets,  which  have  tails." 

"But  they  don't  lose  them,"  said  Natika. 

"  Xo,  but  they  may  be  obscured,"  observed  ]\rark, 
"  for  a  time ;  that  would  accord  with  the  story  as  it 
is  told.     They  are  seemingly  dissipated  for  a  time." 

"  Zie  Ingins  say  zat  it  was  not  sheep,  but  a  herd 
of  buffaloes,  zat  zie  leetle  Bo-peep  was  guarding,  an' 
zat  zie  buffaloes  or  bisons  did  make  zie  stampede  an' 
sliake  zie  earth  till  it  was  great  earthquake,  and  zey 
did  lose  zeir  tails." 

"  Shook  'em  off,  I  suppose,"  said  Victor,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"About  zat  I  am  not  certain,"  replied  Docteur 
Canonge,  gravely.     "  I  will  ask  Chicora." 

Mark  smiled  and  shook  his  head  at  Victor,  who 
was  laughing.  Mark  was  very  tender  of  his  grand- 
father's crotchets. 


MUCH-MARRIED     LIZBETTE.        119 

"But,  as  regards  zose  comets'  tails — ah,  yes," 
said  the  old  docteur,  pursing  his  lips  thoughtfully 
as  he  spoke,  "  and  also  M.  Guillemin  says,  in  his 
work  upon  comets,  zat  zese  wandering  stars  are 
perpetually  robbed  of  zeir  gaseous  particles,  zeir 
nebulous  tails,  as  zey  do  pass  amongst  zie  constella- 
tions. Yet  I  do  prefer  zie  myth  of  zie  dawn  clouds 
for  leetle  Bo-peep.  Still  I  shall  consider  zie  tails  of 
zie  comets,  Victor.  It  is  a  good  suggestion  and 
worthy  of  remark,  my  dear." 

Victor  looked  ashamed. 

"Grandpapa,  you  are  so  good,"  he  said,  and  he 
rose  and  put  his  arm  about  the  old  man's  neck. 

Docteur  Canonge  embraced  him  tenderly. 

During  the  conversation  Docteur  Canonge's  coffee 
had  got  to  be  cool  enough  for  quaffing.  So  he 
drained  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  cup ;  cafe  noir  it 
really  was,  strong  as  any  Arab  of  the  sacred  tribe 
of  the  Wahabtees  ever  distilled  for  his  own  holy 
lips. 

Lizbette  excelled  in  coffee  and  in  all  the  real 
Southern  dishes.  She  made  both  the  gumbos,  as 
well  as  the  famous  bisque,  to  perfection.  It  takes 
exactly  one  hundred  and  fifty  crawfish  to  make  a 
good  dish  of  bisque.  Lizbette  understood  how  to 
divide  them — so  many  for  stuffed  heads,  so  many 
for  stuffing,  so  many  for  beating  up  into  powder 
so  many  for  the  basis  of  the  soup.  There  are  some 
things  in  this  world  that  only  a  Creole  cook  can  do. 


120  PANOLA. 

One  is  to  make  bisque.  Then  Lizbette  knew  all 
about  terrapin,  all  about  corn-bread,  and  rice  waffles, 
and  hominy,  and  capons,  and  "  pain  perdu.''  She 
knew  how  to  make  fig  conserves,  and  watermelon 
citron,  and  cocoanut  cakes,  and  banana  fritters,  the 
very  coolest  of  ices  and  sherbets,  and  drinks  of  fruit 
juices — that  made  from  the  yellow  fruit  of  the  pas- 
sion vine  up  to  the  syrup  of  orange  blossoms,  whose 
"  bouquet"  was  as  exquisite  as  its  "  gout.'' 

In 'short,  Lizbette  was  perfection  itself,  in  the 
kitchen,  over  the  pots  and  pans.  But,  out  of  it, 
she  would  occasionally  get  on  a  "  rampage,"  espe- 
cially when  she  got  ^'  na  thatfou,  but  just  a  drappie  in 
Jiere'e;''  which  sometimes  happens  in  a  better 
reo-ulated  household  than  Docteur  Canon n-c's.  In 
truth,  this  household  was  somewhat  irregular  and 
even  Bohemian  in  its  arran elements.  There  were  no 
especial  hours  for  anything,  except  dinner.  Docteur 
Canonge  could  never  be  counted  on  for  any  meal, 
for  sleep,  or  for  any  regularity  of  living,  because  he 
v/as  subject  to  constant  calls  in  his  profession,  and 
ate  and  slept  and  came  home  when  he  could.  But 
Lizbette  had  always  something  hot  and  good  ready 
for  him,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night;  especially 
did  the  coffee  dripper  simmer  and  moan  away  all 
the  time  beside  the  kitchen  fire,  on  its  own  particular 
little  charcoal  furnace. 

Coffee  was  the  one  necessity  of  life  for  Docteur 
Canonge  and  his  household.     Tea  he  disdained,  and 


MUCII-MARRIED     LIZBETTE.        121 

they  all  thought  themselves  vei-y  ill  when  they  were 
condemned  "  to  tea  and  toast.''  The  contortions  of 
visage  with  which  the  beverage  would  be  swallowed 
would  be  inconceivable  to  any  Englishman.  But 
the  fact  was,  Lizbctte  did  not  make  good  tea. 
Either  she  steeped  it  in  middling  cool  water,  or  she 
boiled  it,  or  stewed  it,  or  did  something  to  it  which 
drew  out  all  its  bitterness  and  evaporated  all  its 
aroma.  Then,  too,  these  ignorant  people  had  never 
drunk  a  cup  of  really  good  tea,  made  as  it  is  in 
England.  So  they  only  knew  it  through  Lizbette's 
preparations.  (I  should  advise  any  Englishman 
who  travels  in  Louisiana,  to  bring  with  him  his  own 
portable  little  tea  equipage,  or  learn  to  drink  coffee 
or  claret  for  his  breakfast.  The  tea  is  generally 
abominable  stuff.) 

Tisans  can  be  got  to  perfection.  Tisans  of  balm, 
or  orange  leaves,  or  violets,  or  of  the  thousand  plants 
that  are  used  by  experienced  French  nurses  for  the 
simple  cure  or  prevention  of  native  diseases.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace  to  the  coffee  fur- 
nace Lizbctte  usually  had  a  caraffe  of  "  Tisan " 
stewing  for  some  body  or  other. 

Lizbctte  was  part  of  the  family.  She  ruled  over 
the  other  servants  despotically,  and  whenever  she 
got  a  little  too  much  "  old  Bourbon  "  or  "  Jamaiky," 
she  used  to  sit  down  and  weep  bitterly,  and  tear  her 
hair,  in  memory  of  her  *' dear  dead  old  mistus," 
Mrs.  Canonge,  who  had  been  buried  for  forty  years. 


122  PANOLA. 

Then  the  old  docteur  ^yould  shrug  his  shoulders, 
give  Lizbette  a  few  drops  of  ammonia,  and  have  her 
put  in  her  bed,  whence,  after  a  few  hours'  sleep,  she 
would  emerge  meek  and  subdued,  and  altogether 
amiable  and  obliging  for  some  time. 

While  Natika  and  Victor  were  with  their  grand- 
papa, Mark  made  an  effort  to  have  a  little  more 
regularity  about  the  household,  and  did  succeed  with 
lunch  and  dinner;  but  breakfast  remained  woefully 
protracted  and  long  drawn  out.  Victor  would  come 
sometimes  to  join  Mark  at  nine  o'clock.  Xatika 
tried  it  once,  and  then  ordered  her  chocolate  at 
eleven.  Victor  fell  off  too  in  attendance.  Docteur 
Canonge  came  sometimes,  but  not  often.  So  Mark 
returned  to  his  old  habits  of  his  simple,  solitary 
breakfast  at  eight  o'clock,  leaving  the  others  to 
arrange  their  own  hours  with  Lizbette. 

Docteur  Canon ge's  house  was  really  a  very  de- 
lightful restaurant,  where  each  and  all  did  exactly 
as  they  pleased.  Nobody  was  in  a  hurry  about 
anything  in  particular,  and  the  servants  rather  liked 
the  disjointed  style  of  living. 

Xegroes  have  naturally  no  instinct  of  order. 
They  sleep  anywhere  and  at  all  hours,  and  rise  often 
to  cook  and  eat  at  the  most  untimely  hours  of  the 
night.  Victor  called  his  grandfather's  house 
"  Liberty  Hall."  He  said  it  was  a  good  name  for 
an  American  house.  He  liked  it  better  than  "  In- 
dependence Hall."   It  was  more  characteristic.    Yet, 


MUCH -MARRIED     LIZBETTE.        123 

over  all  this  frcedoni  there  prevailed  an  atmosphere 
of  gracious  courtesy  and  refinement  which  took  its 
rise  in  the  heart  of  the  old  French  docteur. 

Lizbette  iiad  recently  buried  her  eii^hth  husband  • 
not  that  she  had  been  a  widow  eight  times.  Only 
two  of  her  husbands  had  been  taken  away  by  a 
"  decree  of  Providence,"  as  Lizbette  and  the  coro- 
ners express  it.  The  other  six  had  been  divorced  or 
abandoned  by  her,  as  she  became  weary  of  their 
conjugal  society,  though  she  had  been  lawfully  mar- 
ried to  each  of  them  (Lizbette  was  a  strict  Methodist 
and  particular  about  the  conventionalities  of  re- 
ligion). But  when  she  was  weary  of  a  husband,  she 
used  to  have  a  grand  quarrel  and  separate  d  mensd 
et  thord, 

Lizbette's  ideas  of  law  being  rather  confused,  she 
considered  that  equal  to  a  divorce  anywhere;  so, 
when  she  was  attracted  by  another  man,  she  duly 
married  him  according  to  her  ideas  of  law  and  order. 
She  was  faithful  while  she  lived  with  her  husbands, 
and  cut  them  off  entirely  when  she  was  fatigued 
-with  their  society.     However,  she  bore  no  malice, 
and   was  quite  friendly   after  the  lapse  of  a   few 
months  intercourse  ;  and  the  "  divorced  ones  "  used 
to  visit  her  occasionally,  and  she  was  always  ready 
to  give  them  a  friendly  meal,  or  any  little  help  in 
life.     She  also  visited  their  wives  on  quite  an  inti- 
mate  footing.     The    principles   of  the   free- lovers 
were  practically  exemplified  every  day  by  Lizbette 


124  PANOLA. 

and  her  people,  and  they  never  lost  caste  among 
themselves,  or  in  their  church,  by  these  small  do- 
mestic difficulties.  Indeed,  three  of  Lizbette's  hus- 
bands were  preachers,  and  stood  high  in  the  opinion 
of  the  sable  brethren  and  sisters. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  higher  sentiments  of 
constant  love  to  one  and  monogamy  is  the  last  result 
of  European  civilization  and  of  man's  development 
in  the  last  twenty  centuries.  It  began  first  in  the 
AVest  among  the  Homans,  as  a  matter  of  state  policy; 
was  incorporated  into  Christianity  not  only  by  the 
teachings  of  its  Divine  Founder  but  also  as  a  matter 
of  social  civilization  and  statesmanship.  The  highest 
problems  of  civilization  have  been  worked  out  through 
it.  But  it  is  not  natural  to  the  African.  They  have 
not  yet  attained  to  the  highest  sentiment  of  a  con- 
stant love.  They  are  a  child-people,  with  the  virtues 
and  the  vices  belonging  to  a  child-people.  They  have 
no  idea  of  vengeance,  except  for  the  moment;  neither 
of  gratitude,  except  for  the  time.  Unless  the  blood 
is  mixed  ;  then  the  mulatto  inherits  the  strong  pas- 
sions and  appetencies  of  one  race  and  the  astuteness 
and  viciousness  of  the  whites.  While  he  is  ordi- 
narily more  intellectual,  he  is  not  so  good,  nor  so 
docile,  nor  so  affectionate  as  a  pure  black;  and  he 
has  more  the  sentiment  of  revenge,  but  no  more 
gratitude.  A  child  is  rarely  grateful.  It  takes  all 
favors  joyfully,  but  without  sense  of  obligation,  and 
it  forgets  in  a  moment;  and  so  does  the  African. 


A     GERMAN     NATURALIST.  125 

They  arc  a  kind,  impulsive  people,  governed  by  d 
•priori  superstitions.  They  may  be  developed  out 
of  tliis,  but  they  will  then  be  developed  into  an- 
other race  of  beings. 

Lizbette,  with  all  her  deficiencies,  was  a  very  im- 
portant and  greatly  beloved  member  of  Docteur 
Canonge's  family,  but  she  W'as  African  au  fond. 

Note. — Among  the  Hindoos  we  find  the  most  delicate  and 
beautiful  pictures  of  purest  conjugal  love.  For  instance,  in  the 
loves  of  Rama  and  Sita,  in  Sakuntala,  and  other  earliest  books, 
which  portray  the  Hindoo  ideal.  Even  the  Suttee  sprang  from 
this  elevated  ideal  of  the  oneness  of  conjugal  lives.  Perhaps  it  is 
from  the  Aryan  that  the  European  sentiment  of  constancy  may 
be  inherited ;  and  its  pure  conception  of  conjugal  unity  comes 
from  the  people  who  imagiued  ^Sita  and  Sakuutula. 


CHAPTER    YIIL 

A    GERMAN    NATURALIST. 

''  r^  RAXDPAPA,"  Mark  exclaimed,  one  morn- 
VJT  ing,  as  the  docteur  was  passing  to  and  fro 
in  the  little  w^orkroom  adjoining  the  library,  where 
poor  Mark  usually  could  be  found,  seated  eternally, 
with  his  books  and  writing  materials  conveniently 
disposed  about  him:  ''grandpapa,  here  is  a  letter 
you  will  enjoy,  from  Professor  Rcimer." 


126  PANOLA. 

'^Romer!  indeed,  I  shall  much  delight  in  dat!'* 
responded  the  docteur,  hastening  into  the  library, 
regardless  of  his  peculiar  appearance,  being  clad  in 
a  long  blue  linen  blouse  over  his  usual  attire, 
having  his  head  tied  up  in  a  bright  bandana 
handkerchief,  to  keep  off  the  dust ;  his  hands  being 
extended  outwards  from  his  person,  for  they  were 
full  of  paste  and  gum — he  had  been  occupied  in 
rebindino;  some  of  his  treasures  of  old  or  rare  books 
— his  long,  narrow,  thin,  French  face  sparkling 
with  anticipated  pleasure. 

^'Datis  great  man!  E,omer !  great  botaniste!  I 
like  his  books  ver  mooch.  I  have  zem  all  bound 
in  zie  beautiful  red  lezzer.  I  do  it  myself.  I  like 
Romer ! '' 

Victor  had  been  readino-  Geors^e  Sand's  last 
romance,  with  his  heels  higher  than  his  head,  as  he 
lay  upon  a  sofa  in  the  library.  He  put  down  his 
book  and  sat  upright  as  his  grandfather  came 
running^  in,  so  full  of  ea2:erness  about  the  letter 
Mark  held  open  in  his  hand.  Victor  was  not  at  all 
scientific,  but*  he  had  heard  of  Romer,  whose  reputa- 
tion was  world-wide. 

"Where  did  you  meet  Roraer?''  asked  Victor, 
with  interest. 

"  I  met  him  in  Berlin,"  said  Mark.  "  I  saw  a 
good  deal  of  him,  and  grew  to  be  much  attached  to 
him,  and  we  have  corresponded  in  a  desultory  sort 
of  fashion  ever  since.    He  is  now  in  South  America, 


A     GERMAN     NATURALIST.         127 

and  this  letter  lias  been  wanderins:  about  a  jrood 
deal,  being  first  brought  down  one  of  the  tributaries 
of  the  Amazon  on  the  head  of  one  of  the  Indian 
swimmers  who  transport  the  mail  in  that  region  of 
cataracts  and  vast  trackless  forests." 

"  I  am  altogedder  attention,'*  said  Docteur 
Canonge ;  "  read  on,  ^fark." 

"Does  he  write  English?"  asked  Victor;  "it 
does  not  look  like  Entrlish  from  here.''  •• 

"No;  he  writes  in  German,  and  that's  the  reason  it 
has  been  so  long  reaching  me,"  replied  Mark.  "  Our 
j)0stmasters  don't  generally  read  German  text." 

"  I  don't  understand  it  either,  Mark  ;  so  you  had 
better  translate,"  proposed  Victor.  "  I  should  like 
to  hear  what  Romer  says  for  himself." 

Mark  glanced  over  the  letter.  "AVell,  it  is 
great  injustice  to  Romer,  who  is  really  quite  elo- 
quent in  his  own  tongue;  but  here  gees  for  an  off- 
hand translation,  literal,  of  course." 

"My  Dear  Mark: — You  do  not  think  that  I 
have  forgotten  you,  because  I  have  not  found  time 
this  present  year  to  write  to  you,  noble  friend.  I 
have  been  very  busy,  and  in  many  wild  regions  of 
the  earth,  where  correspondence  was  not  a  possibil- 
ity ;  where  there  were  no  roads  and  no  mail  facilities, 
not  even  such  as  are  here,  of  an  Indian  swimmer  to 
convey  a  letter  upon  his  head,  down  the  rivers  for 
many  miles,  to  points  of  civilization.     Owing  to  the 


128  PANOLA. 

frequent  cataracts  and  pathless  forests,  there  is  no 
other  good  route  for  anything  less  j^ersevering  than 
an  enthusiastic  botanist,  who  discovers  here  in  this 
mitrodden  wilderness  a  true  paradise,  in  which,  I 
assure  you,  serpents  abound,  although  the  Eves  are 
by  no  means  tempting.  I  have  been  wandering, 
since  the  last  year,  gathering  abundance  of  finest 
specimens  of  plants  for  the  Berlin  museum.  I  have 
been  extremely  successful  and  immensely  happy.  I 
have  found  several  new  varieties  of  cinchona,  and 
or\Q  fern,  which  grows  only  in  a  cavern  on  a  certain 
tributary  of  the  Amazon,  a  fern  never  known  before, 
and  which  I  risked  my  life,  with  joy,  to  obtain.  It 
grew  in  a  cave,  into  which  I  had  to  be  lowered  by 
a  grass  rope,  on  the  side  of  a  mountain  much 
broken  by  rocks,  about  three  hundred  feet.  The 
Indians  who  were  my  guides  objected  to  my  descent; 
but  I  gave  them  my  only  overcoat,  well  lined  with 
sable  (a  present  from  King  William,  which  had 
served  me  well  on  my  travels),  but  I  had  forgotten 
to  bring  any  money  from  the  last  town  whence 
I  started  to  make  this  little  tour,  so  I  had 
bartered  away  all  I  had  with  me,  except  my  pipe,  a 
shirt,  my  trowsers  and  this  overcoat,  which  I  now 
gave  to  be  permitted  to  make  this  descent.  I  had 
no  shoes,  save  the  cowskin  sewed  boots  of  this 
country,  and  I  have  now  an  overcoat  like  a  Tartar's, 
made  of  dressed  sheepskins,  so  I  could  not  make  a 
creditable  a^^pearance  with  you  as  formerly  ^Unter 


A     GERMAN     NATURALIST.        129 

den  Liiulcn,'  in  Berlin.  I  was  in  a  little  clanger  lest 
the  rocks  might  cut  my  grass  rope,  at  the  end  of 
which  I  dangled  for  a  half  hour;  but  at  last  I  made 
my  footing  safe  into  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  I 
found  the  fern.  Oh,  mein  lieber  Mark!  but  it  was 
an  hour  of  joy.  I  grasped  my  treasure,  and  put  it 
safely  into  my  little  silver  box  in  my  bosom;  then  I 
seized  another  handful — roots  and  all — and  gave  the 
signal  to  be  hoisted  up,  which  was  done  quickly; 
but,  having  to  guard  my  precious  plant,  I  could  not 
protect  myself  from  the  rocks  so  well,  and  so  I  re- 
ceived some  rather  sharp  blows  on  my  body,  which 
have  rendered  me  somewhat  stiff  in  the  shoulders 
and  elbows,  and  forced  me  to  rest  a  few  days.  So  I  am 
compelled  to  take  leisure,  and  I  write  up  my  letters: 
this  one  to  you,  dear  beloved  Mark.  I  had  a  small 
attack  of  fever  of  the  country  this  year,  for  about 
two  months.  It  was  intermittent  in  type,  and  gave 
me  an  opportunity  of  testing  the  strength  of  the 
different  varieties  of  the  cinchona,  which  I  took  in 
infusion  and  also  in  decoction.  I  am,  therefore,  now 
prepared  to  give  experimental  information  in  regard 
to  the  equalities  of  the  different  plants  as  febrifuges. 
I  tried  some  of  the  coarser  and  weaker  sorts  faith- 
fully for  several  weeks;  but  they  did  not  relieve 
disease  so  quickly  as  others.  I  can  advise  the  gov- 
ernment positively  on  this  matter.  I  did  not  mind 
retaining  my  fever  somewhat  longer,  in  order  to 
attain  to  this  certain  knowledge. 
8 


130  PANOLA. 

"This  IS  a  splendid  country  for  a  botanist.  I  do 
not  know  when  I  can  ])Grsuade  myself  to  leave  it. 
I  find  so  much  that  is  deliirhtful  here.  I  have 
learned  to  live  like  the  people  here,  and  it  does  very 
well  indeed.  Sometimes  I  find  I  can  go  very  well 
for  several  days,  as  the  Arabs  do,  with  the  suste- 
nance of  small  balls  of  ground  coffee,  which  I  can 
generally  obtain  in  this  latitude.  It  is  very  conven- 
ient, and  easily  portable." 

"Good  Lord!"  ejaculated  Victor,  "what  a  diet!" 

Mark  smiled  as  he  glanced  up  from  his  letter. 
Docteur  Canonge  was  rubbing  his  hands  in  glee. 
Edmer  was  a  man  after  his  own  heart. 

"  Oh,  but  I  should  like  to  eat  coifee  wiz  such  a 
compagnon ! "  said  the  docteur ;  "  it  would  be 
nectare  of  zie  gods ! " 

"Besides,"  continued  Mark,  reading,  "I  have 
frequently  much  fruits  and  many  plants  which  are 
edible  and  known  to  me,  so  that  I  fare  well.  Some 
day  you  will  find  me  knocking  at  your  gate,  dear 
Mark,  when,  if  ever,  I  can  persuade  myself  to  quit 
this  land  of  interest  and  wonders.  [Make  my  com- 
pliments to  your  venerable  and  most  admired 
grandfather,  Monsieur  le  IMarquis  and  Docteur 
Canonge,  whom  I  hope  some  day  to  see,  and  to  lay 
at  his  feet  my  most  respectful  homage.  With  un- 
changing friendship,  believe  me,  my  dear  Mark, 
"Yours,  "EoMER." 


A     GERMAN     NATURALIST.  131 

"  Dat  is  a  man  !  a  man  amono^  zouzands!  "  com- 
mented  Docteiir  Canonge,  clasping  his  paste-covered 
fingers  together  enthusiastically.  "It  is  a  friend  to 
be  proud  for,  my  dear  ^Nlark  !  ^' 

Victor  ran  his  finsrers  through  his  soft,  dark  curls 
and  looked  lauj^hinsj-lv  at  his  irrandfather. 

"  Yes,"  responded  ^lark,  earnestly,  "  Homer  is  a 
magnificent  fellow  !  I  am  proud  of  his  friendship. 
Oh,  how  gladly  I  would  partake  in  his  fatigues  and 
clangers,  if  it  were  but  possible !  "  and  ^lark  sighed 
heavily  as  he  glanced  at  his  faultless  but  helpless  legs. 

Docteur  Canonge's  face  changed.  He  never  could 
bear  to  hear  Mark  sigh  over  his  helpless  condition. 

"I  mus'  go  and  complete  zie  binding  of  my 
*  Boethius,'  "  he  said,  "  while  zie  paste  remains  still 
soft.  I  zank  you,  dear  Mark,  lor  reading  me 
Ecimer's  beautiful  letter." 

The  old  docteur  never  forgot  his  graceful 
courtesy  towards  the  most  intimate  associate;  he 
smiled  gratefully  on  his  grandson,  and  disappeared 
into  his  own  sanctum  to  his  work. 

He  had  hardly  got  his  leather  straight  upon  his 
book's  back  before  the  door  opened. 

"Grandpapa,"  cried  Natika,  entering  hurriedly 
into  his  laboratory,  "  you'll  have  to  stop  your  work  ! 
Here  come  tln'ee  carriages,  containing,  I  think,  «//the 
Smiths  and  all  the  Clarks  to  pay  their  party  call!" 

Docteur  Canonge  held  up  his  pasty  hands  in 
despair,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  then,  with  a 
comical  grimace,  said; 


132  PANOLA. 

"  Zey  make  attack  in  a  phakanx  !  How  sail  we 
meet  zis  enemy  ? '' 

Xatika  laughed.  "  I  don't  know,  grandpapa. 
Let's  bring  them  all  in  here,  where  Mark  and  Vic- 
tor can  help  us ;  and  tell  Lizbette  to  send  up  a  tray 
of  wine  and  little  cakes  as  soon  as  possible,  and  some 
of  her  home-made  orange  syrup  and  water." 

"  Yes ;  zat  will  be  a  diversion  to  occupy  zie  army 
for  a  while,"  said  Docteur  Canonge,  laughing.  "And 
we  will  tell  zem  about  Eomer,  and  I  will  show  zem 
my  workshop.  So,  now  we  have  arrange  our  plan 
of  battle,  I  will  go  wash  my  hands  and  take  off  zis 
w^orkman's  costume ! " 

When  Docteur  Canonge  returned  to  the  salon 
after  making  a  hurried  toilette,  he  came  in  all  the 
splendor  of  his  black  suit,  in  the  buttonholes  of 
w^hich  dangled  the  ribands  of  several  scientific 
associations,  amons^  them  the  red  riband  of  the 
French  academy.  He  found  "  the  army,"  as  he 
had  called  it,  already  in  line  of  battle.  The  angular 
Mr.  Clark,  the  exuberant  Mrs.  Clark,  the  shy  Miss 
Clark,  occupied  one  sofa  in  a  straight  line;  imme- 
diately at  right  angles  sat  the  three  Misses  Smith, 
with  their  mamma  flanking  them,  and  their  brother 
trying  to  look  graceful,  nonchalant  and  accustomed 
to  the  easy  performance  of  all  social  duties.  Xatika 
sat  facing  this  formidable  array,  talking  volubly 
and  despairingly — making  enormous  efforts  to  get 
some  replies  more  than  monosyllabic  from  her  over- 


A    GERMAN     NATURALIST.  133 

whelming  and  portentous  guests.  But  tliey,  the 
guests,  had  come  to  be  entertained,  not  to  entertain. 
So  they  sat  up  for  their  rights,  and  Natika  found 
that  even  her  Parisian  skill  failed  when  she  had  to 
do  the  "frais"  of  all  the  conversation  for  a  party 
comprising  six  women,  who  had  very  few  ideas,  and 
who  jealously  kept  those  few  sacredly  within  the 
miserly  recesses  of  their  own  minds. 

This  seance  was  held  in  the  chief  salon,  and 
Natika  could  have  embraced  her  grandfather,  when 
after  making  his  graceful  and  gracious  salutations, 
lie  invited  tlie  whole  party  to  adjourn  to  the  library. 
So  that  his  poor  Mark  "also  might  have  zie  plea- 
sure of  zie  ladies'  conversation." 

The  'Svhole  party"  followed  the  bright  little 
docteur,  who  preceded  them,  throwing  open  the 
library  door,  then  stepping  briskly  back  with  a  pro- 
found bow  to  the  ladies  as  they  entered  the  more 
sociable  apartment.  There  was  quite  a  little  bustle 
as  everybody  shook  hands  with  Mark,  who  received 
the  greetings  with  a  cordial  smile.  Victor  came 
gracefully  forward,  and  by  the  time  Lizbette's  tray 
arrived  the  social  ice  was  fairly  broken.  The  stiff 
people  lost  some  of  their  starch.  Fat  ^Irs.  Smith 
was  laughing  jollily,  and  iNIr.  Clark  was  talking  so 
fast  about  i)Otany,  of  which  he  knew  nothing,  and 
of  Romer,  of  whom  he  actually  had  heard  some- 
thing, that  Docteur  Canonge  could  not  keep  pace  with 
him  comprehend ingly,  but  he  was  making  the  most 


134  PANOLA. 

amiable  though  rather  impotent  attempts  to  reply 
^vit]l  nnderstanding  and  propriety.  In  one  of  his 
entangled  sentences  he  broke  down  so  plainly  and  so 
preposterously  that  even  Natika's  elegance  and  de- 
corum gave  way,  and  she  burst  out  into  an  irrepres- 
sible, merry  laugh  over  her  grandf\ither's  palpable 
mistakes,  that  was  contagious.  Docteur  Canonge 
also  laughed,  and  so  did  stiff  Mr.  Clark,  while  fat 
INIrs.  Smith  shook  her  fat  sides  like  "  a  bowlful  of 

jelly." 

After  a  rather  prolonged  visit,  the  whole  party 
took  leave  en  masse  as  they  had  come,  evidently 
pleased  with  the  visit. 

"  Thank  heaven,  that's  over !  '*  said  Katika, 
throwing  herself  exhausted  into  an  easy-chair. 

"I  sink,''  said  her  grandfather,  "zat  children 
should  be  educated  wiz  knowledge  of  conversaiion 
as  a  social  dutv.  It  would  ver'  much  iifrhten  zie 
burden  of  life,  if  every  soul  met  his  fellow  wiz 
frankness  and  amiable  desire  to  please ;  and  zis  is 
matter  of  cultivation  which  Americans  do  much 
neglect." 

*' There  seems  to  be  a  fierte  in  the  Eno-lish  and 
American  peoples,"  said  Katika. 

"A  remnant  of  ancient  savagery  and  isolation  that 
has  not  been  yet  evolved  out  of  them,"  put  in 
Victor. 

"  Zey  was  a  strong  and  fierce  race,  zose  nordern 
peoples,"  said  Docteur  Canonge.     ^'  Zey  were  like 


A     GERMAN     NATURALIST.         135 

zie  carnivorous  animals  who  e^cizo  zcir  proy  each  for 
himself,  and  go  oiVlo  zcir  dens  to  devour  it  in  silent 
peace.  Zere  still  remains  great  inclination  to  divi- 
sion and  individuation  among  zeni  ■svhich  is  not 
human,  and  truly  not  Christian." 

*^  But,  grandpapa,  you  know  you  are  almost  so- 
cialistic in  your  theories,"  said  Victor. 

*^  Perhaps  !  zere  is  someting  of  de  Frenchman  in 
me.  Zie  first  impulse  of  zie  Frenchman,  when  any 
proposition  is  made  to  him,  is  to  say,  'I  doubt.' 
Zey  are  a  nation  of  doubters,  true  disciples  of  Des- 
cartes !  Dey  can  nevare  be  very  dogmatique  be- 
cause zey  do  nevare  ver'  strongly  believe  much. 
Zey  can  nevare  see  whole  trutts  anywhere;  it  is  all 
half-trutts,  and  sometimes  zey  don't  see  noting  true 
at  all." 

*^  They  understand  co-operation,  though,  and  are 
ready  to  work  and  associate  with  others.  So  they 
have  done  much  for  science/'  said  j\Iark. 

^'Yes,  and  all  de  great  socialist  theories  have 
generally  sprung  out  of  French  brains,"  replied  the 
docteur.  "  I  sink  zey  are  probablement  developed 
out  of  zose  leetle  tent-caterpillars  who  make  a  nation 
of  zemselves,  who  form  one  huge  tent  on  a  single 
tree,  who  eat  and  sleep  and  make  zeir  diurnal  prom- 
enades tofreddcr  every  day." 

"Grandpapa,  Swedenborg  says  that  the  ordinary 
"duties  of  society  are  to  give  *  breakfasts  and  dinners 
and  suppers.'  lie  has  a  long  chapter  about  it," 
said  j\Iark. 


136  PANOLA. 

"AVell,  Swcdenborg  is  right  zere.  It  is  always 
been  considered  a  mark  of  amity  to  eat  togedder 
among  all  nations  in  all  periods  of  time.  From  zie 
earlie'st  [)eriod  among  zie  Hindoos,  who  are  strict  peo- 
ple of  caste,  zere  has  been  zie  highest  honor  awarded 
to  Jagernath,  whose  festival  drew  zie  largest  crowd 
of  pilgrims  in  zat  ole  world,  by  reason  of  de  fact  zat 
zere  all  zie  people  were  equal,  and  zey  all  did  eat  to- 
gedder, zereby  showing  zie  wide  brotherhood  of 
man.  Jagernath  have  been  ver'  much  calumniated 
idol.  His  car  did  nevare  run  over  nobody,  but 
have  ever  been  zie  symbol  of  love  and  fraternity 
among  zie  Hindoos.  Zere  is  also  zie  traditional 
feasts  of  zie  Scandinavians.  Zey  did  eat  togedder 
at  Yule-tide  and  on  oder  times  wen  zie  chiefs  did  as- 
semble for  council.  And  zere  is  zie  old  symbol  of 
zie  order  of  Freemasons — zie  ver'  name  came  from 
*  mas,'  zie  Gothic  for  *  a  table.'  Zey  were  band  of 
brodders  who  do  eat  to2;ether  all  over  zie  world. 
And  zere  is  zie  higher  mystery  of  zie  mass,  or  zie 
Eucharist,  among  zie  Christians.  It  is  a  remarka- 
ble fac'  zat  zie  Divine  Founder  of  our  relig-ion 
nevare  invent  nozing  new  by  way  of  symbols.  He 
take  old  sings  and  gave  zem  new  and  infinite  mean- 
injxs.  He  take  zie  washino:  of  zie  Hindoos  and  he 
turn  it  into  baptism.  He  take  zie  fraternal  feasts 
and  he  make  it  zie  bond  of  union  amon^r  all  Chris- 
tians,  a  sign  of  amity,  equality,  fraternity  and  true 
liberty." 


MONSIEUR     LE     DOCTEUR.  137 

"  Oil,  grandpapa  !  what  would  the  priests  say  to 
hear  you  talk  ?  "  said  Xatika. 

"  Zey  might  say  what  zey  like.  I  must  trutt 
speak.  I  am  Catolique  out  of  respect  to  my  ances- 
tors and  to  my  tamiile.  But  I  make  my  own  ex- 
planation of  all  zese  matters  to  myself.  I  am  a 
Christian,  but  I  go  much  round  a  large  circle  of 
metaphysics  before  I  get  back  to  zie  elementary 
mysteries,  but  I  do  get  zere  after  while,  and  it  con- 
tents me.  I  believe  zie  best  I  know,  and  zie  mcTst 
I  can.  But  I  see  zere  appears  Mr.  Antony  Coolidge. 
lie  do  come  to  see  you,  Natika,  an'  you  can  ver'  well 
entertain  one  poor  young  man,  wizout  assistance  from 
me  or  anybody,''  said  Docteur  Canonge,  his  eyes 
twinkling  merrily.  "  So  I  will  go  again  back  to 
zie  blouse  and  zie  book-binding.  I  fear  much  my 
paste  is  all  hard  by  zis  time." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

MONSIEUR     LE     DOCTEUR. 

DOCTEUR  CAXOXGE  was  extremely  beloved 
in  his  neighborhood.  lie  had  a  passion  for 
his  profession  of  medicine,  and  his  tenderness  and 
sympathy  for  his  ''  poor  j)atients"  were  ever  ready 
and  unfailing  in  all  demands  upon  him. 


138  PANOLA. 

Half  the  time  he  forgot  to  put  down  his  medical 
calls  in  his  books,  and  il"  a  neighbor  was  cramped  in 
his  circumstances,  the  docleur's  bill  was  never  pre- 
sented at  all.  Wlien  he  received  money,  which  he 
often  did,  he  would  thrust  the  bank  notes  into  his 
pocket,  where  Lizbette  would  discover  them  woe- 
fully damaged  by  j)as?ing  through  the  hands  of  the 
washerwoman  who  had  charge  of  his  usual  costumes 
of  linen  or  Attakapas  cotonnade.  It  was  only  on 
grand  occasions  that  the  docteur  appeared  in  the 
glory  of  black  broadcloth,  with  all  his  ribands  in  his 
buttonholes.  He  had  a  pardonable  small  vanity 
in  his  ribands.  They  had  been  sent  him  by  dif- 
ferent scientific  societies ;  and  so  "  farouche "  Ke- 
jiublican  as  he  was  in  principle,  he  valued  the 
rewards  of  science  above  all  things.  AVhen  his 
brother  Jacob,  who  had  been  so  successftd  in  ac- 
cumulating money,  reproached  the  docteur  for  his 
carelessness  of  what  Jacob  regarded  as  the  chief  end 
of  life — "the  making  of  money" — the  docteur 
would  shrug  his  shoulders  up  to  his  ears,  and 
reply : 

*'  What  would  you  have,  Jacob  ?  I  haf  not  zie 
talent  to  make  much  money ;  and  zen  I  haf  nevare 
had  zie  time  eider;  I  haf  been  so  busv  in  my  life 
wiz  oder  sings,  zat  I  had  not  any  time  at  all !  Vou 
see  J  haf  710  time .'" 

Jacob's  "umph,''  sneering  and  contemptuous  as 
it  was,  never  affected  the  docteur's  equanimity.     He 


MONSIEUR     LE     DOCTEUR.  130 

alwavs  persisted  that  he  would  have  made  a  vorv 
great  deal  of  money  if  he  had  had  time  to  spare  ! 

Docteur  Canont^e  was  the  most  toU^rant  of  men, 
very  patient  of  all  men's  idiosyncracies,  which  were 
a  never  ceasin^^  stndy  of  deepest  interest  to  him. 
Physically  active,  and  so  quick  and  restless  as  to  be 
almost  impatient,  lie  was  yet  the  very  gentlest  of 
human  beings. 

He  was  loyal,  true,  and  deeply  grateful  in  charac- 
ter. He  had  a  very  quick  wit,  that  seemed  some- 
times to  have  a  sting  in  its  vivacity ;  but  there  was 
110  root  of  bitterness  in  the  man.  The  only  thing 
he  was  not  tolerant  of  was  iniokrance. 

His  religioti  was  profound,  but  rather  pantheisti- 
cal. He  read  everything,  from  the  Bhagavat  Gita 
down  to  Corate  and  Herbert  Spencer. 

*'  Every  man,"  he  used  to  say,  *'  makes  for  him- 
self, according  to  the  receptive  power  of  his  mind 
and  senses,  an  image  of  zie  universe,  which,  of 
course,  decides  his  life  here.  We  can  see  only  so 
much  as  our  eyes  will  perceive  of  anyzing.  ]My 
idea  of  deity  and  zie  universe  must  be  an  image, 
projected  out  of  my  own  mind,  not  out  of  anozer 
mind.  AVe  can  only  make  a  guess  at  zie  sum  of 
probabilities.  It  is  ver'  foolish  to  dogmatize  about 
anyzing.  Trutt  is  like  zie  beautiful  emerald  bird  in 
zie  fiiiry  tale,  zat  flies  ever  before  us,  enticing  us  to 
follow  it  to  the  more  beautiful  and  better  life.  A\  e 
can  uevaie  seize  it,  but  it  is  of  great  advantage  zat 


140  PANOLA. 

we  are  led  on.  AYe  learn  ;  our  souls  expand.  W^e 
enjoy  larger  life,  fuller  growth.  We  become  grander 
beings ;  and  all  zie  happiness  we  are  capable  of,  we 
can  find  in  zie  i^ursuit  of  trutt ;  zie  possession  we 
can  nevare  have !  Zie  home  of  trutt  is  in  zie  bosom 
of  deity  !  Aspiration  and  jjower  of  growth — zose  are 
zie  real  joys  of  life;  and  it  is  mercifully  provided 
zat  we  can  nevare  attain  to  positive  trutt  about 
Dozing.  As  we  grow,  our  planes  of  thought  do 
widen,  and  w^e  see  zie  light  of  knowledge  strearaen 
in  on  us  from  all  sides,  not  one  sides !  I  sink  some- 
times zat  my  mind's  eye  haf  acquired  as  many  facets 
as  zat  of  a  fly's  eye.  I  see  so  many  sides  of  trutt. 
I  can  only  aj^proach  to  trutt !  I  nevare  can  catch 
zat  fairy  bird." 

Yet,  with  all  his  gentleness,  Docteur  Canonge 
was  known  to  be  a  man  of  imj^erturbable  coolness 
and  of  unfailing  courage,  both  moral  and  physical. 
He  had  no  sense  of  fear ;  but  he  ranked  courage 
and  integrity  as  simple  elemental  principles  *•  of  a 
gentleman."  He  considered  it  as  a  matter  of  course 
for  gentlemen  to  be  brave.  AVhere  he  found  the  quality 
lacking,  he  treated  it  as  an  organic  disease,  or  weak- 
ness of  nerves,  to  be  regarded  as  a  serious  malady. 

He  never  had  been  known  to  quarrel  with  any  one. 
But  on  one  occasion,  the  son  of  a  friend  of  his,  visit- 
ing him,  w^as  very  grossly  insulted  by  a  well-know-n 
Creole  bully.  The  young  man  was  what  the  old 
docteur  called  "  a  singularly  nervous  person."    Other 


m 


MONSIEUR     LE     DOCTEUR.  141 

prople  said  he  was  a  coward.     At  any  rate  the  next 
day,  while  the  notorious  bully  was  swaggering  along 
the  public  street,  in  the  most  frequented  part  of  it, 
he  was  met  flice  to  face  by  Docteur  Canonge,  who 
stepped  briskly  along,  carrying  a  small  cowhide  in 
liis  hand.     The  docteur  was  bright,  gay,  smiling,  as 
he  saluted  the  many  friends  who  thronged  the  pave. 
When  he  reached  the  bully,  he  stopped  short  and, 
lifting  his    hat  very  courteously,  he  told  him   he 
*'  had  come  to  request  an  apology  for  his  probably 
unintentional     affront    to   his    (Docteur   Canonge's) 
guest."      The  bully   glared  at  him   with   inellable 
contempt,  and  with  a  savage  oath  refused  to  make 
"any  apology."     "I  regret,  then,"  said  the  little 
docteur,  "  that  I  shall  have  to  apply  this  ! "     Lifting 
his  hand  quickly,  he  smote  the  infuriated  duellist  on 
the  face  with  his  little  riding-whip.     With  an  ejacu- 
lation the  man  sprang  upon  him ;  but  the  docteur 
slipped  nimbly  aside,  and  brought  down  the  whip 
once   more  keenly  upon    the  man's  shoulders.     A 
crowd  rushed  in  and  separated  the  combatants. 

The  next  day  Docteur  Canonge  fought  the  bully 
with  small-swords  and  wounded  him  in  the  arm. 
So  soon  as  he  had  disabled  him,  Docteur  Canonge 
proffered  his  assistance  to  aid  the  surgeon  in  dress- 
ing the  wound.  His  adversary  apologized  to  the 
guest.     Docteur   Canonge  spoke  only  once   of  the 

affair.     He  said  to  an  intimate  friend,  "  Poor  B , 

he  is  unfortunately  of  a  very  nervous  temperament! 


142  PANOLA. 

Of  course,  I  had  to  fight  for  him !  It  was  a  neces- 
sity of  honor.  It  is  all  matter  of  temperament !  It 
is  inconvenient  to  be  nervous,  as  we  have  to  live 
under  zie  code  of  honor  here." 


CHAPTER    X. 

A     VERY     W  O  il  A  X . 

^'  "XTATIKA,  what   are   you  .eolng  to  do  with 

-i-^  Antony?"  asked  Mark,  looking  quietly  at 
Natika  as  she  leaned  forward,  resting  her  head  on 
her  hand,  waiting  for  the  door  bell  to  sound,  as  An- 
tony neared  the  house  after  having  fastened  his  horse 
to  the  rack  at  the  side  of  the  drive. 

^^Bo  w^ith  Antony  Coolidge ! "  repeated  Natika, 
indifferently.  *' Nothing,  that  I  know.  What  is 
to  be  done  with  him,  Mark?  What  possibilities  lie 
infolded  in  that  half-developed  creature?  that  hy- 
brid between  races?" 

"  Oh,  Xatika,"  cried  Mark,  shocked  at  her  levity, 
"what  a  shame  to  speak  so  lightly  of  a  human  soul 
which  is  lavishing  its  all  of  life  and  love  at  your 
feet !  If  a  woman  cannot  respond,  she  should  at 
least  be  grateful,  and  respect  such  love  as  that." 

"  Should  she  ?  "  said  Xatika,  carelessly.  "  Have 
you  to  learn,  my  cousin  Mark,  that  ^  should '  and 


A     VERY     WOMAN.  143 

'ought'  are  verbs  that  are  not  incliidecl  in  mv  vo- 
cabulary? I  do  not  acknowledge  any  duties  in  lil'o 
to  anybody.  I  do  exactly  what  I  choose  and  what 
is  according  to  my  own  will  and  pleasure.  Do  von 
Remember  Madame  de  Stael's  excuse  for  herself.'* 
™C'est  ma  nature  ainsi.'  AVell,  that's  my  creed. 
What  I  am,  I  am  by  birth,  proclivities,  accidents  of 
life;  and  though  I  am  deprived,  from  hatred  of 
cant  and  hypocrisy,  of  many  popular  virtues,  I  re- 
tain one,  of  absolute  truth  to  myself  and  also  to 
those  who  are  associated  with  me.  What  I  am,  I 
am;  and  I  don't  choose  to  be  anything  else.  There's 
Mr.  Coolidge's  ring  at  the  door.  Now  comes  the 
announcement  to  me.  Au  revoir,  messieurs  !  You 
are  both  rather  wearisome  with  your  sermonizing." 

Xatika  kissed  her  hands  most  gracefully  to  her 
cousins;  gathering  all  her  little  finger-tips  to  her 
rosy  lips,  then  throwing  out  her  hands  towards 
them,  scatterinir  kisses  as  she  ran  o;avlv  out  of  the 
room,  the  high  heels  of  her  satin  slippers  clattering 
lightly  as  she  went. 

"Take  the  heels  off  your  slippers,  Xatika,"  called 
out  Victor,  "and  walk  noiselessly,  like  a  lady.'' 

"  Like  Panola,  par  exemple ! "  retorted  Natika. 
"jl/y  ancestors  did  not  steal  upon  their  prey  like 
^vild  beasts!" 

Victor  looked  after  her  with  a  bitter  smile  upon 
his  handsome  lips.  Mark  looked  after  her  with 
deep  solicitude. 


144  PANOLA. 

"No  use,  ]\Iark  !  '*  exclaimed  Victor.  "  It  is  the 
Venus  Auadyomene  !  the  creature  made  of  foam  of 
the  sea  !  Capricious  aud  merciless,  like  the  treach- 
erous wave,  and — God  help  me! — maddening  aud 
fearful  in  her  cruel  beauty.'' 

"It  would  be  impossible  to  warn  Antony,"  ob- 
served Mark,  thoughtfully. 

^^ Impossible !  He  would  not  believe  you  !  God! 
I  know! — and  yet!" — Victor  sprang  up  from  his 
chair  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room  like  a  caged 
leopard.     Mark  looked  at  him  pityingly. 

"  I  can't  understand  it,  Victor  !  "  he  said.  "J 
love  Xatika  truly !  but  how  can  you  love  her  as  you 
do,  knowing  her  as  you  do?" 

"Ask  the  moth  why  it  flies  to  the  candle,  or  the 
needle  why  it  rushes  to  the  loadstone,"  replied  Vic- 
tor, stopping  before  a  window  looking  out  ou  the 
garden,  and  then  drumming  upon  the  panes  with 
his  fingers.  "  It  is  all  magnetism,  I  suppose,  or 
something  that  science  will  explain  some  day  or 
other,  but  not  in  time  for  me,  or  for  Antony  Cool- 
idge,  or  a  score  of  other  fools  like  us.  T\Iark,  do 
you  think  one  can  overcome  one  love  by  cultivating 
another?  Philosophers  say  vacuums  are  impossi- 
bilities. The  only  way  to  drive  one  love  out  of 
one's  heart  would  be  to  crowd  it  out  by  another,  I 
think." 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  it  might  be  wise  to 
try,"  replied  Mark,  lightly. 


cousins'    gossip.  145 

"  I  have  a  half  mind  to  try,"  said  Victor ;  "  I 
wish  Chicora  was  younger  and  well,  perhaps  it 
would  not  be  so  difficult.  There  go  NatiUa  and 
Antony !  Spoony  fellow !  What  a  dance  she  is 
leading  him  !  They  are  gathering  roses  in  the 
garden — thorns !  Antony,  take  care  of  your  poor, 
miserable  fingers  ! — thorns  to  those  flowers  !  Good- 
bye, Mark  ;  I  am  going  out  for  a  gallop.  I  should 
like  to  gallop  to  the  d 1,  if  I  could." 

Victor  dashed  out  of  the  library,  and  Mark  soon 
listened  to  his  horse's  clattering  hoofs  as  he  rushed 
past  the  library  window,  not  halting  even  when  he 
courteously  lifted  his  hat,  as  he  almost  ran  his  horse 
past  the  parterre,  where  Natika  was  gathering 
flowers  with  Antony  Coolidge,  looking  up  into  her 
eyes  and  hanging  with  passionate  admiration  upon 
her  sweet,  coquettish  talk. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


cousins'  gossip. 


THE  next  day  ]\rark  heard  Victor  singing  as  he 
ap})roached  the  study  door  in  his  quick, 
imi)ul.sive  way.  He  sang  an  old  romance  of 
Rousseau's. 

Victor's  voice  was  delicious  in  its  impassioned 
9 


146  PANOLA. 

depths.  Mark  heard  it  tremble,  and  he  heard 
Natika  laugh. 

Natika  and  Victor  came  in  toirether  to  Mark  in 
the  library.  It  was  the  custom  of  tlie  house  to  go 
to  !Mark  whenever  any  of  the  inmates  went  out  and 
returned  laden  with  fresh  gossip,  or  any  more  sub- 
stantial gifts  for  Mark,  who  had  grown  to  be  the 
fixed  centre  of  all  the  family-life  and  interests. 
Indeed,  Mark  Boiling  was  most  tenderly  regarded 
by  the  whole  community  of  his  grandfather's  friends, 
so  that  he  used  to  say,  laughingly,  "that  life  had 
always  its  compensations.''  He  had  a  grateful,  sen- 
sitive nature,  and  was  responsive  to,  and  appreciative 
of,  every  little  grain  of  kindness  or  happiness  that 
was  brought  to  him. 

^atika  brought  him  now  a  magnificent  Japanese 
lily,  which  she  held  up  under  his  nose. 

"  There !  ain't  that  a  beauty !  I  got  it  from 
Madame  Boiling's  garden,  and  brought  it  carefully 
home  for  you." 

"It  is  splendid!  "  said  Mark,  taking  the  superb 
flower  from  her  hand.  "  So  you  and  Victor  have 
been  to  call  at  my  stepmother's." 

"Yes,  and  who  do  you  think  we  found  domesti- 
cated there  ?  Yf ho  but  Miss  Clark !  the  shy,  the 
awkward,  the  huge — " 

"And  the  pretty  !  "  put  in  Victor. 

"  Yes,  she  is  pretty,"  replied  Natika,  carelessly. 
"She  has  really  a  beautiful  face,  but  it  is  of  no  use 


cousins'    gossip.  147 

to  lior ;  it  is  a  great  waste,  beauty  on  such  a  woman 
as  tluit.'' 

"She  is  rather  'vast'  in  her  proportions,"  said 
Victor.  "  She  would  have  filled  the  Scandinavian 
idea  of  a  wife  for  Thor  or  Odin ! — she  is  so  big 
altogether." 

"Xot  quite  six  feet,"  continued  Natika ;  "well 
made,  too,  if  she  knew  how  to  manage  herself;  very 
pretty  hair,  that  she  does  not  keep  tidy  ;  very  pretty 
hands,  that  are  not  immaculately  clean ;  quite  a 
sweet  voice,  which  she  strains  horribly,  and  fine 
clothes  that  fit  her  not  at  all ;  she  wears  her  clothes 
as  if  thev  were  hung  upon  a  clothes-horse;  she  does 
not  drape  herself  at  all.  I  really  feel  sorry  for 
Nature  when  I  find  her  excellent  gifts  so  squan- 
dered.^' 

"  You  are  severe,"  said  Mark  ;  "  what  has  poor 
Miss  Clark  done  to  you?" 

"Made  love  to  Antony  Cool idge,"  said  Victor, 
quietly.  "  It  is  funny  to  see  how  she  makes  eyes  at 
Antony.  [N'atika  considers  that  as  an  interference 
with  her  prerogative.  She  never  allows  any  other 
woman  to  interfere  with  her  slaves,  or  to  have  or  to 
keep  a  lover  in  her  presence." 

Natika  lauirl«ed,  and  flashed  a  bright,  bewildering 
glance  ui)on  Victor. 

"It  is  deliirhtful  to  have  such  a  well-trained 
and  intelligent  cousin  as  Victor.  He  is  so  intelli- 
gent and  helpful.     It  is  very  comfortable  for  me." 


148  PANOLA. 

Victor  bit  his  lip.  He  always  came  out  worsted 
from  an  encounter  with  Natika. 

"The  truth  is,  Mark,  la  grande  et  belle  Miss 
Clark  is  in  love  with  Antony.  Isn't  it  curious? 
Such  creatures  as  women  do  fancy !  I  don't  believe 
Shakespeare  exaggerated  one  particle  when  he  made 
Titania  in  love  with  Bottom.  Antony  Coolidge  is 
a  psychological  study  to  me;  that's  the  reason  I 
suffer  him.  Hasn't  he  queer  eyes?  they  are  just 
like  those  of  a  cuttle-fish !  they  protrude  so  much, 
and  are  so  watery  and  pale-colored." 

"A  cuttle-fish  is  very  sensitive,"  said  Mark ;  "  it 
blushes  all  over  when  irritated,  and  suffers.  It 
even  covers  itself  with  erected  papilla.  I  have 
pity  for  cuttle-fish ;  they  seem  to  have  more  sentient 
and  conscious  life  than  other  fishes." 

'^  Perhaps  they  have,"  replied  Xatika,  with  non- 
chalance. "  I  suppose  they  also  have  a  keener 
sense  of  enjoyment  than  calmer  fishes,  so  it  is  all 
balanced.  I  declare,  INIadame  Boiling  is  very 
charming  ;  she  is  a  good  study  of  fine  color." 

"What  a  true  Greek  you  are,  Xatika  I"  said 
Mark,  smiling;  "a  real  sensuous  Greek." 

"'  I  like  a  perfect  mind  in  a  perfect  body,"  said 
Natika,  gravely,  leaning  her  elbows  on  the  table  and 
her  chin  upou  her  elegantly-gloved  hands,  and  look- 
ing steadilv  at  Mark ;  "  I  don't  often  find  it." 

"Xo  one,  and  nothing  will  ever  satisfy  you," 
exclaimed  Victor. 


cousins'   gossip.  140 

"Perliaps  not.  I  think  I  might  have  loved 
Alcibiadcs — perhaps  Pericles,  or  Columbus/'  said 
she,  laujrhiniT.  "There's  not  a  man  amono;  the 
Romans  who  would  have  attracted  me.  They  are 
too  one-sided,  and  too  stern.'' 

"Wouldn't  you  have  liked  Antony?  I  mean 
Mark  Antony,  not  Antony  Coolidge." 

"  Xo.  Antonv  drank  too  much,  and  was  not 
intellectual  enough  for  me.  I  think  if  Socrates  had 
been  handsomer  I  miii-ht  have  fancied  him.  How- 
ever,  Mark,  you  should  have  witnessed  how  Miss 
Clark  was  bourgeoning  and  blossoming  under  the 
melting  influence  of  Antony's  charms.  She  talked^ 
absolutely  talhexlj  in  a  ceaseless,  perpetual  flow  of 
exceedingly  uninteresting  platitudes ;  an  inexhaus- 
tible dribble  that  was  nearly  prostrating  to  ordinary 
human  intelligences.  I  did  wish  myself  transformed 
into  a  rock,  or  a  deaf  mute,  or  anything  to  escape 
from  it;  once  the  floodgate  lifted  off  her  silence,  the 
infinitely  small  source  appears  to  be  exhaustless. 
But  Victor  amiably  sacrificed  himself,  and  Antony 
was  flattered,  as  men  always  are." 

Victor  lau2:hed. 

"  Merci  for  my  sex,"  said  Mark,  smiling. 

"  I  always  except  you,  !Mark,"  said  Xatika,  gather- 
ing up  her  drapery.     "  I  must  go  take  off  my  hat." 


150  PANOLA. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

C  II I  C  O  R  A '  S     F  A  W  X . 

M.AEK  had  a  fine  talent  for  drawing  and  a 
good  eye  for  color,  a  gift  of  nature  in  which 
he  found  great  delight,  and  which  he  had  cultivated 
carefully  both  at  home  and  in  Europe.  He  often 
spent  whole  days  absorbed  before  his  easel,  which 
had  been  carefully  contrived  so  as  to  move  readily 
by  mechanism,  that  he  might  reverse  the  usual  order 
of  a  painter's  motions,  for  instead  of  rising  and 
walking  back  from  his  easel  in  order  to  judge  of  an 
effect,  poor  Mark  would  shove  the  whole  apparatus 
off  from  him,  controlling  its  movements  by  cords 
and  pulleys  until  he  got  the  desired  focus  for  his 
eyes  It  was  rather  cumbrous,  but  he  had  learned 
immense  patience,  and  was  very  grateful  for  any 
means  by  which  the  monotony  and  helplessness  of 
his  life  could  be  relieved.  All  of  his  small  circle 
took  the  deepest  interest  in  everything  that  interested 
him,  so  that  his  paintings  were  subjects  of  comment 
and  affectionate  observation  from  their  inception  to 
their  finishing.  Panola  especially  used  to  be  never 
weary  of  sitting  by  his  side  to  watch  his  skilful 
touches,  and  used  to  make  superwomanly  efforts  to 
2)rovide  him  with  graceful  subjects  for  his  pencil. 
She  would  bring  him  flowers,  leaves,  weeds,  etc.,  for 


C  II I  C  0  R  a'  S     F  A  W  X .  1-j1 

his  forogroiinds ;  would  sit  immovably  hour  after 
hour  for  the  innumerable  sketches  Mark  would 
make  of  hcr.«?elf  in  every  conceivable  poetic  or  alle- 
gorical pose.  Mark  painted  all  of  his  friends — 
!N^atika,  Victor,  his  grandfather,  Lizbette,  Cherokee 
Joe,  his  stepmother,  every  body  tiiat  would  sit  to 
him,  and  no  one  ever  refused  to  do  anything  that 
could  give  Mark  pleasure.     So  he  had  all  of  them. 

Victor  was  rummaging  one  day  in  Mark's  studio, 
when  he  came  across  a  half-finished  picture  which 
struck  his  fancy,  and  he  asked  Mark  to  explain  the 
desiirn.     He  recoii;nizcd  the  likenesses. 

It  was  a  fine  portrait  of  Chicora.  She  was  repre- 
sented as  sitting  in  a  grove  of  noble  trees,  upon  a 
low  bank  covered  with  ffrass ;  leanino;  asrainst  her 
shoulder,  with  one  arm  encircling  her  mother's 
graceful  neck,  was  the  little  two-year-old  Panola, 
white  as  a  snowflake;  just  the  pale  little  child  Vic- 
tor remembered,  looking  whiter  in  contrast  with  the 
rich  roseate  tintings  of  her  mother's  flesh.  Chicora 
was  beautiful,  with  a  warmth  of  color  that  Titian 
would  have  rejoiced  over ;  she  was  represented  in  her 
early  youth,  in  the  fullest  splendor  of  her  llfe-lovcli- 
ness.  Victor  felt  a  rush  of  admiration  that  amounted 
to  a  pang  of  pain  as  he  looked  upon  the  quiet  pic- 
ture and  recalled  the  present  condition  of  this  tran- 
scendently  lovely  woman.  The  eyes  of  the  picture, 
thousrh  lar2:e  and  lustrous  in  their  midnii^ht  blJick- 
ness,  had  not  the  expression  of  defiance  and  concen- 


152  PANOLA. 

trated  vitality  tliat  tliey  now  wore  perpetually.  In 
the  picture  they  were  soft  and  tender  as  a  iMadonna's. 
The  infant  Panola  stood  upon  one  side  of  her  mo- 
ther, and  upon  the  other,  with  one  foot  laid  upon 
Chicora's  lap  and  the  other  lifted  playfully  pawing 
in  the  air  as  if  to  attract  her  attention,  was  a  noble 
red  deer,  his  antlers  showing  that  he  was  only  about 
two  years  old.  The  deer  was  licking  Chicora's 
hand,  as  she  encircled  Panola's  waist  and  pressed 
the  child  closer  to  her  maternal  breast. 

"  What  a  beautiful  picture !  "  exclaimed  Victor. 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that !  '^  replied  IMark,  pausing  from  his 
work  to  glance  up ;  *^  that  is  Chicora  and  her  chil- 
dren. Did  you  never  hear  of  Panola's  foster-brother, 
the  wild  deer?" 

"  No,''  said  Victor ;  "  what  about  it  ?  " 

*'  When  Panola  was  two  or  three  months  old 
Chicora  was  nourishing  her  from  her  own  brea-t, 
and  was  in  danger  of  suffering  from  the  too  abun- 
dant secretion  of  milk.  Grandpapa  proposed  she 
should  adopt  another  infant  for  a  while,  but  there 
were  only  little  negro  children  to  be  found,  and 
Chicora  could  not  subdue  her  repugnance  to  the 
race,  so  grandpapa  was  much  troubled,  when  one 
day  Cherokee  Joe  brought  into  Chicora's  chamber  a 
young  fawn  of  two  days  age,  whose  dam  he  had 
shot.  Chicora  took  the  poor  little  beast,  and  it  fed 
from  her  bosom  until  it  got  old  enough  to  feed  itself, 


ciiicoka's   fawn.  153 

dividing  her  cares  with  Panola.  It  was  really 
tonchino:  to  see  the  creature's  love  for  Panola  and 
Ciiicora ;  it  would  crawl  upon  the  couch  by  the 
child  and  lie  down  by  her  when  she  was  sleeping, 
and  lick  her  hands  and  feet ;  when  it  grew  older  it 
would  never  suffer  a  stranger  to  approach  Panola : 
it  would  spring  into  an  attitude  of  defiance,  and 
stamp  its  hoofs  and  shake  its  head,  already  adorned 
with  soft  antlers.  It  followed  Chicora  everywhere; 
would  lie  down  at  her  feet,  and  showed  a  wondrous 
docility  and  intelligence ;  somehow  it  seemed  to  have 
imbibed  a  sort  of  human  instinct  from  Chicora's 
milk.  It  lived  for  several  years,  and  when  it  died 
Major  Flanoy  had  it  buried.  I  began  to  paint  that 
picture  for  him,  but  he  died  suddenly,  and  I  never 
completed  it." 

"  I  wish  you  would  finish  it  for  me,"  exclaimed 
Victor.  "  It  is  so  pretty  and  so  queer !  I  don't 
wonder  Panola  has  so  much  of  the  wild  fawn  about 
her,  since  she  had  such  a  companion  in  her  infancy. 
Somehow  it  does  not  seem  incongruous  in  Chicora, 
her  preferring  the  deer  of  the  wild  woods  to  an 
African  baby." 

"No,"  replied  !^^ark ;  "there  remains  under  all 
the  cultivation  of  Chicora  and  Panola  a  strain  of 
wildness  and  primeval  shyness  and  reticence." 

"'  Do  you  know,  I  find  that  immensely  attractive," 
said  Victor. 

"  It  is  because  you  are  a  true  creature  of  the  salon 


154  PANOLA. 

you  appreciate  a  touch  of  true,  -svild  nature,"  said 
Mark,  smiling. 

*^  Will  you  complete  the  picture  for  me?"  asked 
Victor,  not  rejilying  to  Clark's  words,  but  gazing 
on  the  picture  intensely.     It  fascinated  him. 

"  Yes,  with  pleasure." 

"Thanks.  I  shall  value  it.  It  is  the  reverse 
of  the  storv  of  Genevieve  of  Brabant,  is  it 
not?" 

"  Yes,  the  dove  fed  Genevieve,  but  Chicora  fed 
the  deer,"  said  ]\Iark. 

"  She  is  close  kin  to  primeval  nature  anyhow," 
said  Victor,  "  and  she — is  very  beautiful." 

Note  by  Author. — This  incident  of  suckling  a  fawn  by  a 
Southern  lady  is  taken  from  real  life. 


CHAPTER    XIIL 

A    sage's    philosophy. 

"  r^  RAXDPAPA,"  exclaimed  Xatika,  one  day 
VI>^  when  they  were  all  gathered,  as  usual, 
about  Mark  in  the  study;  ^'grandpapa,  do  you 
call  yourself  a  Comtist?"  she  glanced  at  the  book 
which  her  grandfather  was  reading — it  was  ^'  Comte's 
Philosophy." 


A    sage's    PIIILOSOPnT.  1-j5 

*'  No,"  replied  the  docteur,  looking  up  from  his 
page,  meditatively.  ''  I  do  not  call  myself  anyzing 
as  yet,  Natika.  I  zink  I  slionld  razer  be  classed 
in  a  ver'  general  and  wide  classification  among  zie 
order  of  zie  Christians;  of  course,  perhaps  of  a 
peculiar  species." 

Victor  laughed  aloud.  ''A  vcnj  peculiar  species, 
I  think,  grandpapa,"  he  said. 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  gravely,  then  afler  a 
moment's  silence  he  said  : 

"  My  chief  object  in  life  is  to  search  after  the 
truth,  wherever  it  may  be  found.  I  cannot  zay  I 
haf  found  more  zan  I  really  haf  done.  jNIy  powers 
and  senses  are  very  limited.  I  have  studied  not  wiz 
pride,  neider  arrogance,  but  wiz  deep  humilitee,  and 
great  willingness  to  learn,  in  any  way,  some  little 
truth  from  anybody  at  all.  I  have  immense 
sympathie  wiz  aspiration  after  perfection,  anywhere 
and  anyhow.  AVherever  life  is,  I  find  zat  life  won- 
derful, miraculous,  mysterious — an  atom  in  zie 
Divine,  a  part  in  zie  Infinite!  I  have  immense 
rcspeck  for  all  life,  for  zie  ordered  Kosmos,  for  zie 
creative  power  ;  zat  I  admire,  I  reverence,  I  adore, 
I  love ! " 

The  old  man  put  his  hands  gently  together,  as  if 
in  prayer,  as  he  spoke,  and  his  eyes  glowed,  his  thin 
face  became  radiant,  and  a  slight  flush  crept  over 
his  sallow  cheeks.  He  bowed  his  head  rever- 
ently as  he  uttered   the  last  words.      His  grand- 


156  PANOLA. 

children  looked  at  him  with  tender,  respectful  eyes. 
The  intense  earnestness  with  which  he  spoke  was 
most  impressive.  The  old  man  paused  and  then 
continued  : 

"  I  know  not  much.  I  have  been  able  to  form- 
ulate but  little  of  a  system  of  religion  for  myself. 
I  find  zie  essential  truths  whose  highest  utterance 
has  come  from  zie  lips  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  find 
someting  of  zose  truths  in  all  periods,  and  in  all 
zie  high  teachings  of  zie  world  from  pre-historic 
times.  I  like  not  names ;  I  like  not  partisanship; 
I  like  not  zie  narrow  teachings  of  theology  any- 
where ;  I  like  not  too  much  definition.  I  love  zie 
good  everywhere ;  I  love  zie  truth  everywhere ;  I 
love  what  you  call  God,  zie  all  Fader ;  I  love  man. 
I  reverence  life  and  organization,  mental,  physical 
and  moral.  I  zink  zere  has  not  been  any  teacher 
like  Jesus;  I  zink  he  had  more  of  zie  divine  life  in 
his  manhood  dan  any  ozer.  So  far,  he  has  taught 
zie  best  I  know.  I  like  zie  Christ  spirit ;  it  is  zie 
right  spirit,  zie  divine  spirit.  I  zink  I  am  j^i'etty 
much  of  a  Christian,  Natika.'' 

"  Grandpapa,  are  you  a  Pantheist,  then  ?  "  asked 
Victor. 

"  No,"  said  jMark,  "  he  is  rather  what  Krause 
calls  a  ^  pan-en-tlieist^ — not  ^  en-kai-pan,'  but  ^pan- 
en-theo.'  " 

"  Your  distinctions  are  too  subtle  for  me,"  said 
Victor,  yawning. 


ASTRONOMICAL  CALCULATION.   157 

Natika  looked  at  Victor  half  contemptuously, 
and  pityingly. 

"  Your  brain  is  too  light  for  metaphysics,"  she 
said. 

"  Natika  has  the  brain  of  the  Greek  ;  it  is  subtle 
and  mobile,"  said  Docteur  Canonge,  smilingly. 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

THE     ASTRONOMICAL     CALCULATION. 

^'  "1\  /TAKK,  I  wish  I  was  as  calm  and  equable 
-^'^-L  as  you  are,"  exclaimed  Victor,  after  he 
had  been  spending  an  hour  in  trying  to  read  a 
French  novel,  in  restlessly  marching  up  and  down 
the  room,  in  snapping  his  fingers  by  pulling  the 
knuckle-bones  out  suddenly,  and  then  allowing 
them  to  relapse  into  their  joints,  in  whistling  and 
humming  snatches  of  favorite  arias,  and  in  watching 
Katika's  white  hands  as  they  moved  lightly  and 
gracefully  over  her  embroidery  frame,  for  this  morn- 
ing Xatika  had  been  seized  with  a  fit  of  industry 
and  domesticitv. 

"I  really  should  like  you  to  be  a  little  less  rest- 
less, Victor,"  replied  ^Mark,  with  a  good-humored 
smile;  "at  least  until  I  complete  this  calculation  for 
grandpapa — an  astronomical  one  that  goes  into  dif- 


loS  PANOLA. 

ferential  calculus,  and  is  not  ho  very  easy  for  me  to 
make." 

"  Easy  enough  for  grandpapn,"  said  Xatika. 
*'  Why  don't  he  make  it  himself?'^ 

"He  has  not  time  to-day,"  said  Mark,  quietly. 
"I  like  to  aid  him,  and  it  is  very  good  in  him  to 
accept  of  my  poor  help  sometimes." 

Xatika  glanced  at  her  cousin  with  a  flash  in  her 
eye,  then  smiled  as  she  said  merrily: 

"'Get  thee  behind  me, Satan !^  I  wish  you  would 
not  always  be  so  irreproachable,  i\Iark.  It  is  really 
fatiguing  to  have  to  keep  up  with  so  much  virtue 
and  goodness." 

"'And  the  Athenians  grew  weary  of  hearing 
Aristides  called  the  Just/"  sententiously  quoted 
Victor  from  Grecian  history. 

"  Behold  Saul  among  the  Prophets ! "  retorted 
Xatika. 

"  Xatika,"  said  Victor,  gravely,  "  you  are  a  very 
exhausting  person.  You  are  worse  than  quicksilver. 
You  are  never  at  rest.  You  are  an  incarnated  kal- 
eidoscope ;  you  can  converse  on  any  subject  with  an 
awful  Greek  loquacity.  You  inherit  all  this  from 
your  ancestors.  Why  don't  you  imbibe  tranquillity 
from  ]Mark  or — Panola?" 

"Panola!"  exclaimed  Xatika,  scornfully;  "Pan- 
ola !  am  I  to  take  lessons  in  deportment  from  a — " 
Xatika  hesitated ;  she  caught  Mark's  eye  fixed 
gravely  upon  her.  "Well;  you  are  part  Indian 
yourself,  Mark,"  she  concluded,  half  apologetically. 


ASTRONOMICAL    CALCULATION.       159 

"Yes,"  said  ]\[ark,  "I  have  no  doubt  Panola  and 
I  both  owe  much  of  our  power  of  self-control  to  our 
aboriginal  forefathers.  I,  for  one,  am  very  thank- 
ful to  them  for  the  quality — even  if  I  appear  souie- 
Avhat  stolid  and  impassive." 

"It  is  a  good  coating  of  armor  against  the  'stings 
and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune,' "  said  Victor ; 
"  or  even  against  Natika's  shafts  of  Attic  -wit  and 
sarcasm." 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  said  Xatlka  ;  "  it  bores  me  ! " 

"  Why  do  you  '  bore '  Xatika?"  exclaimed  Docteur 
Canonge,  emerging  from  his  laboratory  with  an 
open  book  in  his  outstretched  hand.  "Good-morn- 
ing, my  dearest  children.  Yuu  are  well  and  happy 
to-day,  I  trust?"  The  old  man  embraced  his 
granddaughter  and  kissed  her;  then  in  his  affection- 
ate French  way  he  kissed  his  grandsons  each  upon 
the  forehead,  as  was  his  morning  custom  in  greeting 
them.  "I  am  rather  late  this  morning,"  he  con- 
tinued, "but  I  was  up  nearly  all  night  watching  the 
transit  of  a  star,  and  I  overslept  myself;  but  I  have 
gained  someting!  I  have  discovered  a  mistake' 
of  five  seconds  in  ^[oedler's  calculations.  I  shall 
proceed  immediately  to  acquaint  him  with  it.  You 
have  finish  the  calculation,  Mark?  I  did  wish  to 
verify  mine  with  yours." 

Mark  handed  the  paper  he  had  been  calculating 
to  his  grandfather.  The  old  man  cast  his  eye 
rapidly  over  the  columns  of  figures :  his  face  glowed. 


ICO  PAXOLA. 

"It  is  correc' ;  I  liavc  right ;  it  is  full  five  seconds 
zat  Moedler  was  wrong !  I  zauk  you  ver'  much, 
J^.Iark  !  '^ 

"  Pshaw !  grandpapa !  '^  said  Xatika,  biting  off 
the  end  of  her  floss  to  thread  her  needle.  "  What 
great  difference  would  five  seconds  make  anyhow?" 

"Five  seconds  of  time  in  a  transit!"  exclaimed 
Docteur  Canonge.  "  Five  seconds — zat  is  a  great 
deal !  It  make  difference  of  many  zousand  miles  in 
de  distance  of  a  star  ! " 

Xatika  put  up  her  red  lips  and  smiled.  "  If  it 
pleases  you,  grandpapa/'  she  said,  softly,  in  flute-like 
tones,  "  it  is  well !  " 

"  You  do  not  care  so  much  for  science,  Xatika," 
said  Docteur  Canon  2:e. 

"I  care  for  you,  dear  grandpapa,"  replied  the 
siren  in  her  gentlest  dove-notes — there  were  ex- 
quisite cadences  in  Xatika's  voice  when  she  chose  to 
use  them. 

"  What  book  have  you  got  there  in  your  hand  ?  " 
she  continued,  wishing  to  please  her  grandfather. 

"  Zis  is  de  ^  Bhagrat  Gita,'  the  great  hymn  of 
e;od  of  ze  Hindoos — zat  is  de  meaning:  of  Bhacrrat : 
Bhaga,  god — ^gita,  poem  or  song.  It  is  de  Bible 
of  ze  Hindoo.     An'  ver'  good  Bible,  I  zink." 

"Grandpapa!"  exclaimed  Xatika,  holding  up 
her  hands,  "grandpapa,  what  will  the  cure  say  to 
that?" 

Docteur  Cauonge  shrugged  his  shoulders.      "I 


ASTROXO.AIICAL    CALCULATION.        IGl 

care  not  for  wliat  he  will  say ;  I  zink  ^vhat  I  zink ! 
In  zis  book  I  find  ze  germs  of  most  modern  theol- 
ogy. It  is  not  less  ze  truth  because  it  was  also 
known  to  zose  Hindoos  before  ze  day  of  Moise.  I 
have  great  respek  for  Moise,  but  I  zink  he  learn 
much  from  ze  Egyptians,  who  did  also  learn  all  zey 
did  know  from  zose  Hindoos.'^ 

Xatika  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands.  "  Grand- 
papa, you  would  have  been  excommunicated  and 
burnt  up  by  the  gooel  Catholics  of  the  middle 
ages ! '' 

"  Probablement ;  but  I  zink  I  keep  ze  true 
essence  of  ze  Christian  faith ;  so  I  care  not  for  ze 
mint  and  ze  cumin  of  small  dogmas.  I  shall  tell 
you  a  story,  Xatika." 

"Why  don't  you  say  ^narrative,'  grandpapa?" 
said  Victor,  gayly  laughing.  "  You  never  heard 
that  story,  Xatika.  Grandpapa  had  a  French  friend 
here  w^ho  wished  to  learn  English,  and  grandpapa 
undertook  to  teach  him.  Grandpapa  explained  to 
him  that  a  story,  a  talc,  and  a  narrative  meant  all 
the  same  thing.  So  the  pupil  undertook  one  day 
to  tell  an  anecdote  of  a  long-tailed  monkey;  and  he 
called  it  a  '  very  much  narratived  monkey,'  so  we 
got  the  joke  on  grandpapa ! " 

Docteur  Canonge   laughed  merrily.       "It  is  all 
true,  Xatika.     Zis   shall   be,  however,  not   '  a  very 
much  narrative,'  but  a  short  talc  of  my  monkey." 
10 


162  PANOLA. 

CHAPTER    XY. 

THE     STORY     OF     ODIX. 

'^  f  I  ^HERE  lived  in  the  rich  garden  land  of  the 
-*-.•  world,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Hima- 
layas, a  great  king,  the  first  of  all  mankind,  the 
Avisest  and  the  noblest.  This  great  king  was  named 
Arya,  and  he  had  many  sons  and  daughters,  until 
the  land  of  Paradise  became  too  short  and  too  nar- 
row for  them  all  to  dwell  in.  So  he  called  them 
one  by  one  to  his  presence,  and  he  gave  them  gifts 
and  he  sent  them  away  to  seek  other  lands  and  new 
Paradises;  and  they  went  forth  weeping,  bearing 
costly  gifts  of  gold  and  pearl  and  silken  garments 
fine  as  the  woven  wind;  and  they  found  new  homes, 
some  near  by,  some  farther  oif  from  their  father's 
house;  and  at  last  all  were  sent  away  but  the 
youngest  and  the  eldest  born,  who  was  to  be  king 
after  his  father.  And  finally,  the  youngest  was  to 
go,  and  his  father  gave  him  snow-white  horses,  and 
a  golden  circlet  for  his  head,  and  bands  of  gold 
upon  his  arms,  and  he  also  gave  to  him,  besides  the 
garments  of  silk,  other  wrappings  of  wool  and  fur ; 
for  Odin,  that  was  his  name,  had  to  go  far,  far 
away  beyond  the  homes  of  his  elder  brothers,  who 
had  built  up  royal  cities  in  all  the  lands  they  liad 
taken  possession  of.     That  was  all  King  Arya  had 


THE     STORY     OF    ODIN.  16 


o 


to  give  to  Odin,  his  youngest  son,  besides  the  strong 
bow  and  arrow,  and  the  battle-axe  of  stone,  which 
Arva  liad   used  to   slay  tigers  and  elephants  with. 
Years    and    years    now    passed    away.      Arya  was 
gathered  to  his  fathers,  and  his  eldest  son  reigned 
in  his  stead.     Ages  fled.     The  family  of  the  great 
king  still  lived  in  the  garden  land  of  the   Hima- 
layas.    They  lived  as  they  had  ever  lived,  keeping 
up  all  the  old  traditions  of  the  father  land,  and  the 
Paradise  grew  poor  and  barren  from  the  over-popu- 
lousness,    and    the    growth    of    rusty    superstitions 
which    overspread    the    minds    of    its    inhabitants. 
Occasionally  they  would  hear  of,  or  hold  intercourse 
with,  their  relatives  who  had  settled  in  the  gardens 
of  Persia  and  Assyria  and  Egypt,  and  even  still 
further  in   Greece  and  Pome.     Thev  never  forirot 
their  kinship.     Indeed,  it  told  itself  in  the  likeness 
of  the  peoples,  in  their  habits,  language,  religions. 
There  were  wonderful  dramas  enacted  in  this  e:reat 
family  of  the  descendants  of  King  Arya.     But  they 
never  heard  of  the  fate  of  the  youngest  born,  the 
beloved  Odin.      Pie  was  supposed  to  be  lost  and 
entombed  among  the  polar  snows  and  ice.     Ages 
passed,  and   still  the  family  of  the  elder  brother 
Hindus  lived,  half-sleeping,  in  their  hot  old  ances- 
tral home,  when  suddenly  there  came   a  lightning 
flash  which  circled  round  the  earth.^' 

"  Telegraph,"  whispered  Victor  to  Xatika.    Doc- 
teur  Canouge  smiled  and  nodded  his  head. 


1G4  PANOLA. 

"A  ll;rlitninfx  flash  which  startled  them  from  their 
shunber.  It  brought  greetings  from  the  sons  of 
Odin  to  their  brethren.  They  had  wrestled  with 
nature  in  their  cold  northern  home  until  they  had 
won  priceless  gifts  and  secrets  from  her,  and  they  came 
now,  bearing  all  these  precious  gifts  of  science  and 
art,  of  wisdom  and  skill,  back  to  clasp  the  hands  of 
their  brothers,  and  thus  to  close  the  great  golden 
circle  of  humanity,  the  glorious  bond  of  family  life 
amonsrst  the  children  of  the  g-reat  Kino:  Arva.  And 
they  also  brought  back  fully  developed  and  much 
changed  the  traditions  of  their  early  faith.  They 
gave  into  the  hands  of  their  brethren,  instead  of 
this  book—" 

Docteur  Canonge  took  up  his  book  and  smoothed 
it  gently  with  one  hand  while  he  spoke:  "They 
gave  to  them — descendants  of  this  book — they  gave 
them  the  Zenda  Vista,  and  the  Koran,  and  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  and  the  Greek  and  Syriac  Tes- 
tament, and  all  the  civilizations  and  all  the  knowl- 
edge that  had  grown  out  of  all  these,  and  instead 
of  the  circlet  of  gold  the  children  of  Odin  wore — " 

^'  Silk  and  beaver  hats  ! "  said  Victor. 

'^Bonnets  and  plumes!  "  said  Natika. 

"  Casques  of  mail  and  war  feathers  !  "  said  ^lark. 

"  No,"  said  Docteur  Canonge.  "  Ye  Indians  of 
America  w^ere  not  Aryans — not  ^  war  feathers,'  but 
^casques  of  mail.'     Yes,  perhaps  ! 

"And  they  walked  on  the  sea  with  white-winged 


THE     STORY    OF     ODIN.  1G5 

ships,  and  carried  thunder  and  lightning  in  their 
pockets  (pistols,  you  know),  and  ran  express  trains 
with  smoking,  chained,  and  fettered  dragons,"  said 
Victor,  laughing. 

"  Grandpapa,  that  is  a  lovely  narrative,"  ex- 
claimed Xatika,  throwing  her  arms  about  the  old 
man^s  neck  and  kissing;  him.  "And  I  shall  alwavs 
ever  hereafter  respect  the  old  family  Bible,  the 
Bhagavat  Gita." 

Docteur  Canonge  pressed  Xatika  to  his  bosom, 
and  went  off  with  his  book  held  aloft  in  triumph 
above  his  bald  head.  ^lark  called  after  him  tim- 
idly. Mark  disliked  so  much  to  shake  his  grand- 
father's confidence  in  himself.  But  he  summoned 
up  courage  to  say  now  what  he  had  been  thinking. 
*  Grandpapa,  did  you  make  allowance  for  ^personal 
equation  '  in  seeing  that  transit?" 

Docteur  Canonge  stopped  short,  put  down  his 
book,  smiled  in  a  curious,  puzzled,  half-ashamed 
way.  Then  he  pulled  out  his  snuff-box,  took  a 
pinch  out  of  it,  and  said  slowly  and  half-reluc- 
tantly  : 

"  Xo,  I  don't— believe  I  did  !  " 

!Mark  looked  down  at  his  own  figures  on  the 
paper,-^"  Would  not  it  be  helicr  to — " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  the  docteur,  '^  of  course  it 
will  be  better ;  perhaps  ]\Ioedler  is  not  so  far  wrong 
as  five  seconds  after  all." 


166  PANOLA. 

CHAPTER    XYI. 

LOVE     ^A'  I  L  L     RULE. 

DOCTEUH  CANOXGE  was  greatly  trmibled 
in  niiiid  about  Mark.  He  thought  that 
Mark  had  been  so  cruelly  treated  by  his  brother's 
will  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  kind  old  man  sought  in 
every  possible  way  to  give  expression  to  his  own 
tenderness  for  his  afflicted  grandson.  Mark  felt 
this,  and  exerted  himself  as  much  as  possible  to  be 
cheerful  and  even  gay,  for  fear  of  his  grandfather's 
suspecting  him  of  brooding  over  what  was  indeed  a 
disappointment,  for  Mark  felt  most  bitterly  his 
helpless  dependence  upon  the  active  but  feeble  old 
man,  who  lived  up  to  his  small  income,  and  whose 
only  regret  was  that  he  had  no  more  to  give ;  and 
as  yet  there  did  not  appear  any  possibility  of  relief 
from  this  heavy  dependence  for  poor  Mark.  Mark 
would  have  gladly  changed  j^laces  with  the  healthy 
Irish  ditcher,  whom  he  saw  digging  away  at  the 
earth,  and  wheeling  his  scrapers  full  of  dirt  in 
building  up  the  great  levees. 

One  morning  Docteur  Canonge  proposed  at  the 
breakfast  table  that  Mark  should  make  one  more 
trial  for  the  recovery  of  the  use  of  his  limbs  by 
going  again  to  the  Arkansas  hot  springs  for  a  few 
weeks.     When  he  was  there  before  he  got  so  much 


LOVE     ^ILL     RULE.  167 

better  (hat  he  could  stand  upon  his  feet,  though  still 
unable  to  walk;  but  the  hot  vapor  baths,  while  they 
seemed  to  benefit  him  in  one  respect,  had  weakened 
him  so  much  in  others,  that  the  resident  physician 
had  advised  his  leaving  the  place  and  abandoning 
the  use  of  the  Avaters. 

Natika  listened,  while  her  grandfather  passed  his 
enloo;ium  on  the  wonderful  effects  of  the  hot  and 
mud  baths,  and  then  said  she  believed  she  would  go 
too,  as  the  vapor  baths  had  great  cosmetic  power. 
Natika  had  spied  a  small  pimple  on  her  face,  and 
she  fancied  that  if  there  were  any  humors  in  the 
skin,  she  would  get  rid  of  them  by  these  vapor 
baths.  Mark  was  willing  to  please  his  grandfather, 
though  he  had  little  hope  himself  of  any  great 
benefit;  the  surgeons  had  told  him  so  repeatedly  that 
no  external  impulse  or  application  would  be  of  any 
avail  to  him,  that  the  circulation  of  the  interrupted 
nerve  force  must  come  from  internal  matter,  that 
the  impulse  must  proceed  directly  from  his  own 
brain. 

*'  One  powerful  rush  of  life-force  might  do  it," 
said  they. 

Victor  was  piqued  at  Xatika's  making  her  plans 
independently  of  him,  so  he  played  with  his  teaspoon 
on  the  edge  of  his  cup,  while  the  others  were  dis- 
cussing their  preliminary  arrangements,  and  when 
his  grandfather  alluded  to  him  as  being  of  course 
included  in   the   proposed   i^arty  for  the  jaunt,  he 


168  PANOLA. 

electrified  the  small  company  by  declaring  that  he 
for  one  had  no  fancy  for  the  trip,  and  preferred  to 
remain  where  he  was.  "  Lizbette  would  take  care 
of  him,"  he  said,  *'  and  he  should  go  shooting  with 
Cherokee  Joe,  ])lay  billiards  with  young  Smith,  and 
go  to  see  Miss  Panola  and  her  mother." 

Xatika's  eyes  flashed  when  she  heard  this  defiant 
proclamation  of  his  independence ;  but  she  knew 
him  too  well  to  press  the  matter,  or  to  say  anything 
to  chansre  his  resolution.  She  knew  Victor  would 
weary  sooner  than  she  would  of  their  separation. 
So  she  kept  silence  while  Docteur  Canonge  and  Mark 
expostulated  with  Victor  and  tried  to  persuade  him 
to  change  his  resolution,  and  to  accompany  the 
party.  Like  all  weak  natures  with  strong  desires 
and  of  infirm  impulses  Victor  was  very  jealous  of 
the  appearance  of  being  influenced  by  others.  He 
thouoht  it  showed  a  strous:  mind  and  was  manly  to 
stick  to  his  own  way,  even  when  reason  would  show 
him  that  the  way  of  others  was  probably  better  than 
his.  He  had  no  real  ])rinclples,  but  he  was  very 
obstinate  in  opinions  and  in  small  matters.  Xatika 
understood  him  thorouglily.  She  often  had  some 
contempt  for  him  mingled  with  her  real  affection  for 
him,  which  latter  was  as  much  the  growth  of  habit 
and  gratification  of  the  sense  of  power  as  a  real 
preference  for  Victor.  If  she  .  had  real  preference 
for  any  human  being  it  was  for  ]\Iark,  not  Victor. 
Victor  remained  inflexible  in  liis  determination: 
to  the  Arkansas  springs  he  would  not  go. 


LOVE     WILL     RULE.  IGO 

Just  as  tlie  party  arose  from  the  table  and  ^Nlark 
was  wheeled  into  his  study,  the  dcor  bell  rang, 
and  Antony  Coolidge  was  announeed.  He  had 
come  by  appointment  to  drive  out  with  Natika. 
Victor  looked  gloomily  after  her  as  she  drove  past 
the  window  of  Mark's  room.  Seeins;  him  standino- 
she  kissed  her  hand  gracefully  to  him  in  token  of 
adieu.  The  loveliest  smile  shone  upon  her  face. 
She  was  imperturbable  in  her  good  humor.  Victor 
looked  after  the  buggy  as  it  vanished  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  then,  turning  away  from  the  window 
with  a  muttered  curse,  threw  himself  down  in  a 
chair  near  ^lark,  who  was  reading  as  usual.  Mark 
looked  u[).  Victor  was  sitting  with  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands. 

"Victor,"  said  Mark,  laying  down  his  book, 
"  Victor,  there  are  only  us  three  cousins  to  care 
for  each  other  in  this  world — that  is,  of  our  own 
family.  I  have  the  love  of  a  brother  for  you  and 
for  ^atika.  May  I  use  the  freedom  of  a  brother 
and  s})eak  out  frankly  to  you  ? '' 

"Say  any  thing  you  please,"  said  Victor,  bitterly. 
"I  don't  promise  that  I  shall  take  any  advice  you 
may  please  to  proffer.  I  don't  like  advice,  but  I 
Avill  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say,  if  that  suits 
you." 

"  ^yell,  what  I  have  to  say  is  this,  dear  Victor. 
You  loveXatika?" 

"  Yes,"  bitterly  said  Victor. 


170  PANOLA. 

"  Docs  she  return  your  love?" 

"  No."     This  was  scornfully  said  by  Victor. 

"  Then  why  waste  your  whole  life  in  this  useless 
pursuit  of  a  woman  who  does  not  love  you?" 

"  Because  I  can't  help  it.  Because  Natika  is  my 
fate.  Do  you  suppose  I  have  not  struggled  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  like  to  be  the  slave  of  this  woman's 
whims  and  caprices  ?  Again  and  again  I  have  said 
to  myself  all  and  more  than  you  can  possibly  say 
to  me  on  this  subject.  I  have  kept  away ;  I  have 
tried  dissipations,  other  scenes,  and  have  always 
gone  back  to  her,  and  I  know  I  always  shall. 
Tsatika  is  the  curse  of  my  life  and  yet  all  the  joy 
of  it." 

"  Victor,  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  is  more 
important  to  you  than  even  the  moral  objections 
you  may  have  urged  against  love  for  Xatika.  You 
ought  not  to  marry  Natika,  even  if  she  were  willing. 
My  reasons  are  solely  medical  ones.  I  have 
watched  you  both  carefully,  and  I  tell  you  now  that 
both  Natika  and  yourself  are  inclined  to  be  con- 
sumptive, and  that  if  you  marry,  the  lungs  of  the 
weaker  one,  wdiichever  it  may  be,  will  certainly  fail, 
and  one  will  die.  I  have  observed  this  fact  so 
frequently.  I  have  so  often  seen  the  weak  lungs 
of  the  husband  relieved  by  the  wife  taking  his 
disease  from  him  and  perishing  in  consequence,  and 
vice  versa.  Now  I  forewarn  you,  that  will  be  your 
fate,  for  Natika  is  stronger  than  you  are,  and  if 
you  marry,  she  will  be  your  death  unconsciously.' 


„  » 


LOVE     WILL     RULE.  171 

"So  be  it/'  said  Victor,  sombrely.  •'I  have 
been  told  this  before.  A  gypsy  said  as  much 
once  Avheii  we  had  our  fortunes  told  in  England. 
She  told  me  my  love  for  Natika  would  cause  my 
death.  I  expect  it  will  some  way  or  other,  but  I 
think  I  shall  blow  my  brains  out  some  day.  I 
won't  wait  to  die  of  consumption." 

"Oh,  Victor!"  ejaculated  Mark,  truly  shocked 
at  the  light  manner  of  his  cousin.     "Oh,  Victor! 

God  forbid ! " 

"  Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives,"  replied 
Victor.  "  What  a  stupid  fool  Antony  Coolidge  is ! 
Poor  moth,  to  burn  himself  in  that  flame.  I  could 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  grieve  for  Antony.  I  know 
where  he  will  end :  in  the  bottom  of  the  bayou,  or 
in  the  mad  house,  or  in  the  inebriate  asylum,  or  on 
the  end  of  a  rope.  Alas,  for  Antony !  He  is  in 
the  net  of  the  Cleopatra  who  will  only  laugh  and 
mock  at  him,  and  fling  him  otf  when  she  is  wearied, 
as  a  child  does  a  scjucczed  orange." 


172  PANOLA. 


CHAPTER    XYII. 

HOT     SPRIXGS     OF     ARKANSAS. 

((  23 , 

^i~|y^Y  DEAR  VICTOR: 

-L»-jL  It  was  quite  a  pleasure  to  hear  from  you 
again,  aud  to  learn  that  you  were  so  happy  in  the 
society  of  Miss  Flanoy  and  the  other  fair  dam- 
sels of  the  carapagne.  I  delivered  your  messages  to 
grandpapa  and  to  Mark.  They  were  obliged  for 
your  remembrance  of  them.  I  don't  think  Mark  is 
improving  at  all  in  health,  thougli  grandpapa  is  very 
reluctant  to  concede  the  fact ;  and  jNIark  is  so  very 
patient  and  considerate  that  he  is  not  willing  to  de- 
stroy suddenly  the  airy  fabric  built  up  by  grand- 
papa's sanguine  hopefulness.  Mark  is  weaker  than 
he  was,  and  I  think  he  will  have  soon  to  give  up 
the  use  of  these  powerful  baths.  I  have  been  taking 
them  moderately.  Undoubtedly  they  are  great 
cosmetics,  for  I  never  had  such  roses  and  lilies  ia 
my  face  before.  I  am  very  glad  I  came,  for  it  is  a 
good  preparation  for  my  winter  campaign  in  Paris. 

"  This  is  a  rough  but  interesting  place.  The 
country  must  have  been  of  volcanic  origin.  There 
are  innumerable  hot  springs ;  I  believe,  more  than 
eighty  on  this  low  mountain,  sending  up  steam  and 
vapor  continually.     The  water  is  hot  enough  to  boil 


HOT     SPRINGS    OF    ARKANSAS.      173 

an  egg  in,  antl  tlicre  are  places  "where  beautiful 
crystals  of  rock  quartz  are  found,  and  great  quan- 
tities of  magnetic  loadstones;  plenty  of  white  lime- 
stones, with  red  veins  through  it,  almost  marble  in 
hardness.  I  found  a  beautiful  piece  with  an  ex- 
quisite fossil  leaf  in  it  yesterday.  There  is  also 
sandstone  here,  and  jet.  Onyx  and  large  garnets 
are  also  found. 

"  There  are  many  guests  here,  chiefly  composed 
of  invalids.  It  is  rather  a  Bethesda,  but  one  always 
finds  somebody  worth  seeing  and  talking  to.  I 
have  not  been  yet  ennuiee.  I  have  a  good  deal  of 
amusement  in  watching  Mark.  All  the  women 
here  are  taken  with  him,  and  it  is  funny  to  see  how 
thev  run  after  him.  There  are  several  here  that  I 
call  Miis  train,^  who  never  let  him  have  a  moment's 
peace,  they  are  so  devoted.  It  is  a  study  to  me,  who, 
you  know,  am  rather  accustomed  to  see  things  done 
differently,  that  is,  to  see  men  eperdus  for  women. 
It  teases  Mark  a  good  deal.  But  he  is  gentle  and 
polite.  I  tell  him  he  is  gently  cruel  to  his  adora- 
teuses.  They  seem  to  be  on  the  watch  for  him ; 
they  time  their  meals  to  suit  his;  they  bring  him 
wild  flowers  (which  are  extremely  beautiful  here) ; 
they  bring  him  offerings  of  crystals  and  jet,  and  all 
sorts  of  stones  and  weeds  and  leaves  and  fruits. 
They  read  the  most  tender  poems  to  him.  They 
write  him  feeble  verses.  They  watch  his  face.  They 
exist   only  in  the  sunshine  of  his  smile.     One  of 


174  PANOLA. 

them,  rather  an  okl  girl,  who  wears  spectacles  and 
does  up  the  principal  literary  characters,  is  perversely 
jealous,  even  of  me !  I  think,  according  to  your 
transmigration  theory,  she  was  evolved  through  the 
frogs  ;  she  has  that  sort  of  a  face.  IMark  is  getting 
tired  of  it.  He  does  not  like  the  painful  rank  of  a 
beau  in  society.  I  think  he  will  soon  persuade 
grandpapa  to  go  home. 

"  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  the  Reads,  in  New- 
York.  They  sail  soon  for  Europe.  I  think  I  shall 
join  them.  There  is  a  family  going  from  this  place 
to  New  York  next  week.  So  I  shall  probably  not 
return  to  Louisiana  with  grandpapa  and  ]Mark.  If 
you  should  be  in  Paris  next  winter,  you  will  proba- 
bly find  me,  as  usual,  at  my  cousin,  Madame  Ron- 
her's.  I  expect  I  shall  meet  you  some  day  unex- 
pectedly on  the  drive  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
jusqu'a  cetteheure  de  ravissement.  I  am,  dear 
Victor,  your  cousin  and  friend,  Natika. 

"  p,  S, — Antony  Coolidge  has  been  here  a  week. 
He  begins  to  be  tiresome.  ]\Iark  has  just  rolled 
himself  out  to  my  side  on  this  verandah,  where  I 
am  writing ;  and  here  appear  the  train  also.  It  is 
astonishing,  the  necessity  of  ordinary  women  for 
something  to  gush  over  upon.  They  must  expend 
the  overflow  of  sentiment  in  their  tender  bosoms, 
whether  it  be  on  parrots,  or  poodles,  or  men.  For 
my  part  I  prefer  poodles,  though  you  never  had  any 
patience  with  Fanfan.     She  likes  the  warm  baths 


IN     THE     DARK     HOURS.  175 

here  very  much.     I  take  her  in  every  clay.     It  is 
good  for  her  health." 

"  I  wonder  why  women  like  Natika  are  fo  satiri- 
cal towards  their  own  sex/'  thought  Victor.  "  The 
two  women  I  know  best,  she  and  Panola,  are  cer- 
tainly not  given  '  to  gush,'  as  she  calls  it.  God 
knows  she  is  as  changeable  as  a  chameleon  and  very 
difficult  to  keep  pleased  with  anything  ;  that  is  just 
her  charm.  And  Panola  is  cold  as  an  iceberg.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  thaw  her  snow.  She  is  far 
the  nobler  woman.  But  then  Natika  is  so  cursedly 
fascinating.  Other  women  are  so  commonplace  be- 
side her ! " 


CHAPTER  XA'III. 

IN     THE     DARK     HOURS. 

YICTOR  managed  to  occupy  his  days  in  shoot- 
ing, fishing,  driving  and  riding.  The  even- 
ings he  generally  spent  at  Mrs.  Flanoy's.  He  asked 
permission  of  her  to  come  there  freely,  appealing  to 
her  charity  for  relief  from  loneliness,  or  the  society 
of  old  Lizbette.  jSIrs.  Flanoy  liked  Victor.  She 
was  pleased  to  have  him  come  to  see  her.     She  liked 


176  PANOLA. 

his  singing  and  liis  graceful,  pleasant  ways.  Panola 
liked  him,  too,  and  was  grateful  to  him  for  his  evi- 
dent admiration  of  her  mother,  and  for  the  care  he 
took  to  please  Mrs.  Flanoy. 

Music  was  a  great  bond  between  Panola  and  Vic- 
tor ;  and  then  Victor  was  Mark's  cousin,  and  he  re- 
sembled Mark  a  good  deal.  It  was  pleasant  to 
look  at  eyes  so  like  to  JNIark's  in  color  and  shape, 
though  they  differed  in  expression.  And  it  was 
somethinoi:  novel  to  the  vouns:  Panola  to  receive 
from  a  yOung  man  all  the  graceful  little  courtesies 
which  their  constant  intercourse  enabled  Victor  to 
proffer  to  her  when  they  were  so  much  together, 
and  very  often  alone  together.  It  was  impossible 
for  a  man  of  sentiment  not  to  be  sometimes  rather 
more  tender  in  voice  and  manner  than  occasion 
seemed  to  necessitate.  It  was  natural  impulse  be- 
tween the  sexes. 

Victor  had  no  intention  of  making  love  to  Panola, 
but  he  did  it,  and  sometimes  he  cursed  himself  for 
doing  it.  For,  however  he  might  amuse  himself 
with  other  women,  he  hneic  that  his  inner  heart 
never  failed  in  its  deep  habit  of  allegiance  toXatika. 
With  all  her  faults,  she  was  the  one  and  only  woman 
he  really  desired  on  the  earth.  Her  indifference  and 
coquetry  only  rivetted  his  chains  the  closer,  because 
it  made  any  consummation  of  his  hopes  so  very  un- 
certain. He  was  angry  with  Natika.  He  said  to 
himself  a  thousand  times  that  he  would  not  follow 


IN     THE     DARK     HOURS.  177 

her  back  to  Paris.  lie  repeated  it  the  oftener  that  he 
distrusted  his  own  resohitioii.  If  Xatika  should 
write  him  one  single  tender  or  flattering  line,  he 
knew  he  should  certainly  be  a  passenger  on  the  next 
steamer  for  Havre.  Yet  he  tried  to  make  himself 
in  love  with  Panola.  There  were  hours  in  which 
he  fancied  he  had  partially  succeeded. 

The  magnetic  power  of  her  mother  over  him  he 
fully  recognized.  If  Chicora  had  been  well  and  in 
any  condition  to  justify  such  a  feeling,  Victor  sus- 
pected it  just  possible  that  she  might  inspire  him 
w^ith  a  passion  almost  as  powerful  as. that  which  he 
felt  for  Natika.  But  Panola,  in  all  the  splendor  of 
her  beauty,  never  would !  Yet  he  had  a  sort  of 
jealous  dislike  at  the  thought  of  any  other  man's 
ever  possessing  Panola.  He  did  not  want  her  him- 
self, but  he  did  not  want  anybody  else  to  have  her. 
So  his  conduct  became  fitful  and  capricious  towards 
Panola.  The  young  girl's  manner  never  varied 
much.  She  was  always  calm,  cold,  and  loftily  cour- 
teous to  Victor.  She  liked  him  best  when  he  was 
simply  a  hon  eamarade  in  his  manner  towards  her- 
self. For,  when  he  paid  her  lover-like  attentions, 
Panola  felt  as  if  a  sort  of  ice-crust  slowly  formed 
itself  over  her  heart.  The  touch  of  his  hand,  if  it 
pressed  hers,  did  not  warm  her,  but  produced  a  sen- 
sation of  torpidity  and  an  impulse  of  repulsion. 

AVhen  Mark  and  his  grandfather  returned,  they 
fijuud  Victor  still  living  at  Docteur  Canonge's ;  but 
11 


178  PANOLA. 

after  they  had  been  home  a  week,  Victor  suddenly  de- 
parted for  New  Orleans,  and  they  did  not  hear  from 
him  for  several  months. 

About  this  time  the  Confederate  war  broke  out, 
and  when  next  they  heard  from  Victor,  he  was  en- 
listed iu  the  southern  army  and  had  got  a  commis- 
sion on  a  generaPs  staflP.  In  his  letter  he  mentioned 
casually  that  he  had  a  letter  from  Xatika;  that  she 
was  enscao^ed  to  be  married  to  an  "  Italian  marchese." 
"  But,''  wrote  Victor,  ^'  Natika's  being  engaged  is  no 
positive  certainty  that  she  will  ever  marry  this  man  ! 
She  has  been  engaged  before  this.  Antony  Coolidge 
is  gone  to  the  dogs.  The  foolish  fellow  followed 
Natika  abroad,  was  scornfully  dismissed  by  her,  and 
he  has  just  given  himself  up  to  the  wiklest  sort  of  a 
life.  He  is  as  often  in  the  gutters  as  anywhere  else. 
He  has  no  ])Ower  of  resistance  or  of  recuperation  in 
him.  Once  the  rein  given  to  the  neck  of  his  un- 
governable appetites,  which  were  the  poor  fellow's 
inheritance  with  his  mixed  blood,  he  is  gone.  He 
is  here.  I  have  tried  to  do  what  I  could  for  him, 
but  it  has  ended  in  nothing.  The  quicker  the 
misery  and  the  degradation  is  over  for  him,  the 
better.  The  man  was  not  devoid  of  good  qualities 
if  Katika  had  let  him  alone.  He  is  good-natured 
and  docile,  and  rather  affectionate ;  but  his  passion 
for  Natika  has  unloosed  the  hyena  in  his  nature, 
and  now  his  appetites  for  wickedness  and  debauchery 
and  the  lowest  sensual  indulgences  are  insatiable! 


IX     THE     DARK     nOURS.  179 

His  niotlicr  had  better  come  to  look  after  him.  She 
can  stay  hhn  in  his  mad  career  of  Avicked  fully.  I 
have  Avritteii  frankly  to  her,  for  as  much  as  I  dislike 
her  I  suppose  she  has  some  maternal  instincts 
left.'' 

Victor's  letter  must  have  produced  its  effect,  for 
Madame  Boiling  quitted  the  Pavilion  and  went  off 
to  her  son.  She  did  not  return  for  several  months. 
When  she  came  back  she  was  robed  in  mourning; 
her  sou  had  died  by  his  own  hand  in  a  fit  of  mania 
potu.  Madame  seemed  to  be  very  much  distressed. 
It  was  doubtless  a  grief  to  her.  She  had  schemed 
and  plotted,  perhaps  had  committed  crimes  to  ad- 
vance the  interests  of  her  son,  and  he  had  despised 
her  counsels  and  mocked  at  her  wishes.  He  had 
forsaken  Panola  and  gone  madly  after  Natika,  who 
lauo;hed  at  him. 

Madame  was  very  pale  when  she  returned  to  the 
Pavilion.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  the  ocean 
rolled  between  Natika  and  this  sorely-afflicted  mo- 
ther, for  Madame  Boiling  was  not  a  woman  to  sit 
down  patiently  or  resignedly  under  a  real  or  a 
fancied  injury.  She  always  had  found  some  means 
of  veno-eance  on  her  foes,  but  she  knew  the  great 
virtue  of  patience.  Madame  used  to  say,  '^  the  one 
needful  quality  in  this  world  was  patience  to  wait  for 
opportunity."  "  The  world  is  round,  and  it  turns, 
and  people  meet,"  she  used  to  quote  from  the 
Italian.     So  she  returned  to  cultivate  her  little  gar- 


ISO  PANOLA. 

den  and  to  be  sweetly  amiable  to  her  niece  and  to 
her  disagreeable  sister-in-law,  wdio  never  permitted 
her  to  enter  into  her  apartment.  Mrs.  Flanoy  was 
very  positive  in  her  prejudices,  and  her  daughter 
and  servants  had  long  before  learned  the  inflexibility 
of  her  will. 

The  war  surged  around  the  quiet  neighborhood. 
All  the  young  men  had  gone  into  the  army.  Mark 
chafed  more  and  more  against  his  helplessness. 
Half  the  Cherokees,  with  Satana  at  their  head,  had 
joined  the  Confederate  army  under  General  Albert 
Pike,  of  Arkansas. 

Year  after  year  rolled  on  until  the  last  eventful 
one,  when  the  contest  was  being  ended  so  far  as  open 
fighting  went. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

]\r  A  R  K  I  E  D     IX     HASTE. 

ACCIDENTAL  circumstances  l)rought  Victor 
-^-^  once  more  near  his  grandfather,  and  it  was 
but  natural  that  he  should  seek  to  see  the  old  gen- 
tleman. Mark  and  the  old  docteur  were  delio;hted 
to  see  him,  one  fine  spring  morning,  enter  the  well- 
known  study. 


MARRIED     IN     HASTE.  181 

Victor  was  looking  finely.  He  had  gained 
strength  and  manliness  under  his  late  experiences, 
and  had  made  a  very  good  soldier.  He  had 
come  to  stay  ^'  one  week/'  he  said,  "  then  his  furlough 
would  be  over.^'  Victor  enjoyed  the  quiet,  lounging 
life,  the  comfortable  fare  and  ease  of  his  grand- 
father's house  greatly.  He  said  it  was  worth  being 
deprived  of  ordinary  comforts  to  enjoy  them  after- 
wards. "  He  had  not  been  comfortable  or  seen  a 
pretty  woman  for  years."  He  asked  after  Panola. 
"  She  was  well,"  Mark  said,  "  but  her  mother  was 
failing  fast.  The  stiffness  was  spreading.  It  had 
seemed  to  stop  for  a  long  time,  and  then  quite  re- 
cently it  had  come  on  again."  Victor  said  he  would 
ride  over  in  a  day  or  so  and  see  the  Flanoys. 

"Cherokee  Joe  was  still  there,"  Mark  said,  iu 
reply  to  Victor's  C|uestion.  "  His  family  also  were 
living  in  a  wigwam,  built  out  in^  the  bit  of  copse 
w^ood  on  the  Flanoy  estate.  His  wife  made  baskets 
and  sewed  and  washed  for  ^Irs.  Flanoy,  whose 
white  servants  had  all  left  her.  Panola  does  almost 
everything  with  her  own  hands,"  said  Mark  ;  "  ex- 
cept for  the  little  aid  she  gets  from  Joe's  wife,  and 
some  little  from  Joe  himself,  she  does  every  thing. 
But  Mrs.  Flanoy  does  not  feel  the  change ;  Panola 
keeps  her  perfectly  comfortable." 

;Mark  went  on  to  tell  Victor  that  Panola  not  only 
took  care  of  her  mother,  but  that  she  also  found 
time  to  see  after  himself  and  his  grandfather,  and  to 


182  PANOLA. 

help  her  annt  Boiling.  "Panola  has  her  sewing- 
machine,"  Mark  said,  *' and  she  made  all  sorts  of 
clothing  and  little  comfortable  articles  for  all  three 
households.  She  has  entirely  overcome  her  Indian 
dislike  of  manual  labor.  Her  little  hands  are  get- 
ting hardened  from  unaccustomed  work." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Xatika  lately  ? "  asked 
Mark,  his  thoughts  making  contrast  of  the  position 
of  the  two  women. 

"Yes,"  replied  Victor,  gloomily,  "she  broke  off 
with  the  marchese.     I  knew  she  would." 

"  AVhere  is  she  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"In  Paris,  very  comfortable  and  happy,"  said 
Victor,  bitterly.  "  Xatika  does  not  care  for  country 
or  kinship,  you  know;  that  is,  unless  she  should  be 
attracted  by  the  mere  excitement  of  the  thing  to  feel 
a  transient  impulse  of  patriotism.  Xatika  might 
like  to  play  Joan  d'Arc  for  the  interest  of  the  char- 
acter for  a  while.  She  would  as  lief  run  the  blockade 
for  the  fun  of  the  risk  or  the  dausrer  as  not.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  to  hear  that  she  had  tried  it !  " 
and  Victor  laughed.  "  I  tell  you  what,  Mark,  I 
have  learned  one  lesson  in  this  miserable  w^ar,  and 
that  is  the  value  of  a  true,  single-hearted  woman — 
such  as  Panola,  for  instance — who  can  sacrifice  all 
her  own  desires  and  even  comforts  for  the  sake  of 
tliose  she  loves.  I  have  lost  all  fancy  for  useless 
queens  of  society." 

Mark  smiled.     "You   don't  know  yourself,  Vic- 


MARRIED     IN     HASTE.  183 

tow  "Wait  until  you  get  back  into  the  old  grooves 
of  life,  and  you  will  see  then  that  habit  is  deep  as 
life  and  strong  as  death.  You  will  gradually  go 
back  to  your  old  likings/' 

"Xo,  I  aiu  sure  not/'  replied  Victor,  energeti- 
cally. 

Victor  went  over  to  see  the  Flanoys  that  very 
evening.  He  went  again  the  next  day,  and  the 
next,  and  so  he  got  to  passing  the  greater  portion 
of  his  davs  there.  Panola  struck  him  as  beino- 
more  beautiful  than  ever.  Chicora  had  not  changed 
at  all.  She  welcomed  him  as  kindly  as  formerly. 
Victor  had  known  the  rough  life  of  a  soldier.  He 
appreciated  the  delightful  atmosphere  of  home  which 
surrounded  these  charming  women,  and  which  was 
lackino-  at  his  grandfather's.  His  attentions  to 
Panola  became  more  and  more  lover-like.  Chicora 
was  pleased  to  see  this.  Panola's  future  often  was  a 
heavy  care  to  the  afflicted  mother.  There  was  no 
one  to  look  after  Panola  but  the  chief  Satana,  or 
Madame  Boiling,  in  case  of  the  mother's  death. 
She  believed  Panola  would  not  be  happy  living  in 
the  Nation,  and  towards  Madame  Boiling  she  cher- 
ished an  instinctive  hatred.  She  looked  upon  Vic- 
tor's wooing,  therefore,  most  favorably,  and  w^as  re- 
solved to  use  her  influence  to  its  utmost  maternal 
limits  in  his  fav^or. 

But  Panola  p:rew  shver  and  colder  as  Victor  crrew 
warmer  in  his  manner.     When  her  mother  would 


184  PANOLA. 

speak  of  him  she  was  silent.  She  had  been  brought 
up  ill  the  habit  of  iinph'cit  obedience,  and  she  knew 
it  would  be  a  hard  trial  for  her  to  resist  her  afflicted 
but  imperious  mother's  will,  especially  as  she  had 
no  good  reason  for  rejecting  Victor.  She  liked  him 
personally  better  than  any  one  she  knew,  except — 
perhaps,  JNIark.  Mark  was  out  of  the  question. 
Not  only  was  it  imjiossible  for  him  to  think  of  love 
or  marriage,  but,  even  if  it  were  possible,  he  had 
shown  no  feeling  to  justify  Panola  in  thinking 
about  him  except  as  a  dear  brother. 

Panola  was  a  proud,  shy,  slowly-maturing,  half 
Indian  maiden.  The  chastity  and  continence  of 
her  blood  through  long  lines  of  famous  warriors  had 
kept  cool  and  as  yet  unwarmed  by  passion.  She 
did  not  love  any  one  so  far  as  she  knew,  but  neither 
did  she  desire  to  love.  She  did  not  wish  to  marry 
at  all.  She  was  happiest  ministering  to  her  mother, 
and  to  old  Docteur  Canonge,  and  to  Mark,  and  in 
j^laying  on  her  Straduarius.  If  she  could  have  fled 
away  into  the  vast  depths  of  the  forest,  she  would 
have  done  it  to  escape  the  importunities  of  Victor, 
and  the  imploring  looks  and  entreaties  of  her 
mother  on  this,  disagreeable  subject.  Several  times 
she  thought  she  would  appeal  to  Docteur  Canonge 
or  to  ]\Iark,  to  deliver  her  from  what  she  felt  to  be 
a  persecution.  Once  she  got  almost  to  the  house, 
and  to  ]\lark's  study,  for  this  very  purpose,  when 
some  strange  impulse  seemed  to  stay  her  feet,  and 


MARRIED     IN     HASTE.  185 

she  turned  away  and  fled  swiftly  homeward,  with 
crimson  cheeks,  like  a  frightened  doe  to  its  covert. 
Mark  was  so  entirely  convinced  of  Victor's  devotion 
to  Xatika  that  he  suspected  nothing.  Matters  had 
gone  on  thus  for  the  whole  period  of  Victor's  fur- 
lough. He  was  to  leave  on  the  following  day,  when 
he  burst  into  Mark's  study  one  hour  before  twilight, 
exclaim ino; : 

"  Congratulate  me,  Mark !  for  lama  bridegroom  ! 
I  shall  marry  Panola  to-morrow  morning,  just  be- 
fore I  leave  for  the  army.     She  has  yielded  at  last.'' 

Mark's  book  fell  from  his  hands:  the  blow 
astounded  him ;  he  could  not  speak ;  the  blood 
ebbed  from  his  lips  ;  he  felt  as  if  he  was  suffocating. 

Victor  was  so  much  excited,  and  so  gay  over  his 
triumph,  that  he  did  not  ol)serve  the  effect  of  his 
announcement  upon  his  cousin.  Mark  rallied  him- 
self, stooped  over  to  pick  up  liis  book,  saying,  in 
rather  a  smothered  tone, 

^'  You  are  certainly  to  be  congratulated  if  this  is 
true.  When  did  it  occur?  How  can  you  give  up 
Katika?" 

Victor's  face  fell. 

"Natika  has  given  me  up,"  he  said,  sharply.  '^\s 
for  Panola,  I  have  been  intending  to  marry  her, 
if  I  could,  ever  since  I  was  here  while  you  went 
to  the  Arkansas  springs,  and  hard  enough  it  has 
been  to  get  her." 

"  I   fear  it  was  the  difficultv  that  has  been  the 


186  PANOLA. 

attractlo.n,"  said  ^Mark,  sadly.  ''Do  you  really  love 
Panola?" 

"  Yes ;  I  111  ink  I  do/'  said  Victor,  determinately 
settino;  his  teeth  toijether. 

"Does  Panola  love  you?"  continued  Mark, 
firmly. 

"  If  she  don't  now,  she  ^/-zY/,"  replied  Victor, 
almost  angrily.  ]\Iark's  questioning  and  doubts 
annoyed  him.  He  was  not  so  sure  on  any  of  the 
points  as  he  would  have  liked  to  be.  "She  is  not 
like  most  girls,  Panola  is  not.  She  is  naturally  cold 
and  unimpressionable ;  but  she  is  very  beautiful 
and  good ! " 

"  Oh,  Victor  !  "  said  ]\Iark,  passionately,  "  don't 
force  this  poor  girl  to  marry  unless  you  are  sure  of 
yourself  and  of  her.  I  fear  you  and  her  mother  are 
acting  cruelly  to  Panola.  I  know  Mrs.  Flanoy's 
imperious  will.  Panola  is  not  cold  ;  I  have  studied 
her  nature,  and  I  know  it." 

Victor  was  startled  for  the  moment  by  the  intense 
passion  in  Mark's  voice.  A  suspicion  flashed 
through  his  soul. 

"  You  can't  marry,  Mark  !  I  could  not  suspect  you 
of  the  dog-in-the-manger  desire  to  keep  this  girl 
single  when  you  can  offer  her  nothing  but  cold 
friendship ! " 

"God 'forbid  !"  said  Mark,  humbly.  "I  only 
desire  Panola's  happiness.  I  have  never  hoped  for 
anything  myself.    But  don't  fetter  her  if  she  does  not 


MARRIED     IN     HASTE.  187 

really  love  you  :  think  a  little  of  her  wretchedness 
if  she  finds  herself  bound  to  a  man  who  does  not 
love  her — whom  she  does  not  love." 

"  I  am  no  Caliban  or  Bhiebeard,  Mark/'  said 
Victor,  trying  to  smile,  "and  it  is  no  use  talking 
now,  I  shall  marry  Panola  to-morrow.  I  have 
spoken  to  the  magistrate  to  meet  me  at  ten  o'clock ; 
and  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  which  is  only 
to  be  performed  in  order  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Flanoy,  I 
go  off  to  the  army.  I  shall  try  for  another  furlough, 
when  I  will  return  to  the  bosom  of  my  family,"  said 
he,  with  some  return  of  his  old  levity  of  speech. 
He  added  more  seriously,  ''Don't  fear,  Mark;  I  will 
not  be  unkind  to  my  wife  ! " 

]\Iark  sat  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  He 
made  no  reply.  Victor,  vexed  at  his  obstinate 
silence,  left  the  room  singing  "  Dites  lui,"  from 
Offenbach's  Grande  Duchesse.  He  went  to  carry 
his  great  piece  of  news  to  his  grandfather,  who 
entered  into  his  hopes  with  full  sympathy  and 
great  excitement,  which  consoled  A^ictor  for  Mark's 
coldness. 

That  was  a  night  of  agony  for  Mark,  and  his  face 
bore  the  traces  of  it  when  he  appeared  at  the  break- 
fast table  the  next  morning.  He  looked  so  pale  and 
so  ill  that  Docteur  Canonge  was  seriously  anxious ; 
and  Victor  did  not  require  any  further  explanation 
as  to  the  impossibility  of  ]\Iark's  going  with  the 
party  to  witness  the  brief  ceremony  to  take  lA-dca  at 


188  PANOLA. 

Mrs.  Flanoy's.  Victor  dressed  himself  carefully  in 
his  gray  uniform.  He  knew  he  would  have  but 
little  time  for  change  after  the  marriage.  He  was 
compelled  to  hasten  in  order  to  get  to  his  command 
as  soon  as  possible,  as  his  furlough  had  expired. 

Panola  scarcely  knew  how  she  became  engaged  to 
Victor,  or  how  it  was  that  all  the  arrangements 
were  made  for  her  marriage.  She  had  been  im- 
pelled imperceptibly,  step  by  step,  by  the  force  of 
her  mother's  will  and  Victor's  importunities.  She 
did  not  comprehend  it,  but  she  felt  utterly  helpless. 
If  they  would  only  let  her  alone ;  but  that  they 
would  not  do. 

It  was  with  a  listless  and  IndifTcrent  hand  that 
she  clasped  around  her  the  fine  white  gown  her 
mother  had  ordered  her  to  wear  as  a  weddino;-aown. 
It  was  a  pretty  gown  of  fine  India  muslin,  and 
Panola  recollected  that  Mark  had  admired  it 
greatly  when  she  had  worn  it  in  his  presence. 
She  paused  in  the  midst  of  her  toilette  to  lean  her 
head  upon  her  hands  and  to  sigh  deeply.  She  did 
not  weep — Panola  was  part  Indian.  She  could 
have  been  burnt  by  a  slow  fire  and  still  kept  an 
imperturbable  countenance.  But  there  was  on  her 
face  an  expression  of  stolid  endurance  and  stoical 
apathy  which,  however  natural  to  it,  had  never  been 
there  before  to-day. 

The  moments  passed  swiftly.  Panola  heard  the 
driving  up  of  the  carriages  which  brought  Docteur 


MARRIED     IN     HASTE.  189 

Canonge  and  the  magistrate,  and  she  heard  the  gal- 
loping of  Victor's  horse's  feet  as  he  dashed  im- 
patiently to  the  door.  She  looked  out.  Docteur 
Canonge  and  the  magistrate  had  just  got  out  of 
the  carriages,  which  were  being  driven  off  to  one 
side.  ]\Iark  was  not  with  them ;  Panola  thanked 
God  he  had  not  come.  She  had  dreaded  his  coming  to 
witness  this  dreadful  marriage.  Something  had  pre- 
vented his  coming.  Panola  was  glad.  A  low  knock 
at  her  door  was  answered  by  Panola's  opening  it. 
Madame  Boiling  entered,  smiling  tenderly  as  she 
held  out  a  crown  of  lovely  orange  blossoms,  fresh 
from  her  garden.  She  embraced  her  niece  with 
effusion. 

^'Dear  child,"  she  said,  "it  is  better  I  should  not 
be  present  at  the  ceremony.  It  would  be  painful  to 
me,  and  also  to  your  mother.  So  I  have  brought 
my  small  offering  here.  Wear  my  crown,  Panola,  in 
this  hour  of  your  happiness.  I  had  once  fondly 
hoped  for  different  issues;  but  it  is  all  ended.  I 
have  also  given  to  Joe's  wife  a  handsome  bride's 
cake,  which  you  will  eat  for  my  sake." 

Madame  Boiling  kissed  Panola  affectionately, 
arranged  the  crown  upon  her  head,  and  then  glided 
noiselessly  out  of  the  room,  and  out  of  the  house. 

Panola  was  summoned  ;  she  obeved  ;  and  some- 
how,  she  hardly  knew  how,  she  was  in  the  salon 
before  the  magistrate ;  and  after  a  few  words  which 
she  scarcely  heard — certainly  did  not  comprehend — 


190  PANOLA. 

she  found  herself  in  Victor's  arms  and  he  saluted 
her  as  *^  his  wife.''  Then  Docteur  Canonge  kissed 
her  and  blessed  her,  and  cried  over  her,  he  was 
so  pleased ;  and  her  mother  smiled  upon  her  with 
beautiful  pleased  eyes ;  and  the  handsome  cake  was 
cut  and  wine  was  drunk  ;  then  Victor  embraced  her 
again.  He  had  drawn  Panola  to  the  door,  talking 
to  her  with  his  arm  about  her  waist ;  and  there, 
with  much  tenderness,  he  had  kissed  her  lips  and 
her  cheeks  and  then  he  was  gone.  Panola  stood 
looking  after  him  as  he  rode  swiftly  away.  At  the 
gate  he  paused  and,  turning,  he  waved  his  hand,  and 
slowly  lifting  his  hat,  he  sat  bareheaded  for  an 
instant ;  then  he  disappeared  from  her  view,  riding 
rapidly  away. 

It  was  like  a  fearful  dream  !  Panola  felt  so  tired 
and  so  drowsy,  somehow  so  stupefied.  Instinctively 
she  put  up  her  hands,  and  took  oflp  the  heavy 
wreath  of  orange  flowers,  with  their  overpowering 
scent.  *'  I  do  dislike  orange  flowers,'^  she  thought, 
and  that  was  really  the  only  connected,  conscious 
thought  Panola  had  experienced  that  morning. 

Victor,  as  he  rode  away,  thought  that  he  had 
never  experienced  a  more  painful  chill  than  he  had 
felt  when  he  touched  Panola's  lips  and  cheeks, 
they  were  so  icy  cold.  There  were  no  bridal  blushes 
there ;  but  she  was  white  as  the  cotton  after  which 
she  was  named.  "  She  was  like  a  woman  made  of 
marble,"  he  thought ;  "  I  don't  much  like  playing 
the  part  of  a  modern  Pygmalion.'' 


PASSING     AWAY.  191 

""What  a  stroncr  smell  of  musk  there  is!"  said 
Mrs.  Fianoy  to  Panola.  "  It  seems  to  be  in  your 
hair.     It  is  very  stupefying ! " 

"It  must  have  come  from  the  strong  perfume  of 
my  orange-flower  crown,"  said  Panola.  "They  are 
so  powerful,  indoors,  you  know.  I  do  not  like  them 
iu  masses." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

PASSING     AWAY. 

TIIIXGS  settled  down  into  their  accustomed 
quiet  in  tliis  little  nook,  while  great  events 
were  occurring  all  around,  and  the  fate  of  nations 
was  being  decided.  Mrs.  Fianoy  was  growing 
weaker  and  weaker,  but  the  flame  of  life  burned 
more  fiercely  and  high,  the  nearer  it  came  to  its 
extinction.  It  seemed  to  condense  itself  more  and 
more  into  her  eyes,  which  were  at  once  fearful  and 
most  beautiful  to  look  into.  There  is  a  picture  at 
Pompeii  which  is  brought  to  mind  by  the  remem- 
brance of  Chicora's  face.  It  is  a  mosaic,  which  has 
retained  all  its  brilliancy  of  coloring  and  freshness 
of  hue  for  over  a  thousand  years.  It  represents  a 
head  severed  from  the  body,  but  without  any  pain- 
ful accompaniments.  The  head  is  placed  upright 
upon   a  square  slab  of  marble.     From  beneath  this 


192  PA.XOLA. 

marble  there  is  slowly  flowing  a  stream  of  crimson 
blood,  in  which  a  black  vulture,  seated  near  by,  is 
dipping  his  savage  beak.  There  is  no  contortion 
of  muscle  in  the  living  decapitated  head.  The 
beautiful  features  are  quiet  and  fixed ;  the  eyes  are 
wdde  open,  and  look  straight  forward,  defying  fate 
and  death,  and  time,  and  Nemesis.  Dark  and 
bright  they  gaze  in  utter  contempt  of  the  vulture 
feeding  to  satiety  on  the  life-blood.  They  do  not 
even  see  the  vulture.  They  look  steadfastly  on 
into  a  higher  and  eternal  life,  seeking  to  meet  its 
equals  among  the  gods.     So  Chicora  looked. 

After  a  time,  Panola  had  quietly  resumed  her  usual 
ministrations  to  the  three  families  so  dependent 
upon  her.  When  she  drew  near  to  the  well-known 
study  in  which  Mark  was  sitting  as  usual,  she  felt  a 
sudden  faintness  come  over  her.  She  sat  down  on  a 
bench  on  the  verandah,  outside  of  the  door,  and 
gasped  for  breath ;  but  it  was  soon  over — that 
passing  spasm.  She  rose,  and,  turning  the  knob  of 
the  door  quietly,  she  entered  the  room.  Mark 
looked  up  and  the  color  rushed  over  his  face. 
"  Panola,"  he  ejaculated. 

"  Yes,  ]\Iark,'^  said  Panola,  with  a  plaintive  sad- 
ness in  her  voice,  which  was  quite  firm ;  and  she 
gave  him  her  hand  as  usual.  IMark's  fingers  closed 
over  it  involuntarily ;  then  he  recollected  himself 
and  let  it  drop.  It  had  rested  in  his  very  tranquilly, 
as  cold  as  a  small  snowflake.  Panola  began  to  busy 
herself  about  the  house,  just  as  usual. 


PASSING     AWAY.  10 


o 


Mark  coukl  scarcely  fix  his  eyes  or  his  mnul  upon 
the  book  he  liekl  between  his  trembling  fingers.  He 
found  himself  straining  his  ears  to  catch  the  sound 
of  her  light  footsteps  as  she  moved  about  the  cottage 
"putting  things  to  rights/'  as  women  say.  Then. 
she  brought  in  a  lot  of  clothing  that  needed  mending. 

"  I'll  take  these  home  and  do  them,  Mark/'  she 
said.     "  I  can't  leave  mamma  very  long.'' 

Panola  was  very  quiet  and  grave  in  her  manner. 
Mark  saw  a  great  change  had  come  over  the  young 
girl:  somehow  the  splendor  of  the  sheen  of  her  beauty 
had  departed ;  there  was  no  color  at  all  in  her 
cheeks.  Her  face  w^as  all  satiny  white  except  her 
lips;  they  seemed  to  be  burning  with  fever-red. 
The  glory,  too,  had  faded,  somehow,  out  of  her  hair. 
She  looked,  again,  like  the  pale  white  child  that 
]\Iark  remembered  so  well,  and  that  Victor  had 
laughed  at  so  much.  The  life  seemed  gradually 
dying  out  of  her  as  the  splendid  hues  of  a  wounded 
butterfly  do  in  its  prolonged  death-agony.  But  the 
faculty  of  endurance,  proud  and  high,  was  stamped 
upon  her  every  feature.  She  would  die  and  make 
no  sign,  as  so  many  of  her  race  had  done  before  her 
in  the  earlier  ages — as  her  mother  was  perishing 
now,  day  by  day,  before  her  eyes.  She  had  no  vain 
cries  or  lamentations  to  make  against  any  fate.  She 
"was  not  of  the  softer  mould  of  the  pure  white  race 
or  of  the  childish  African.  She  knew  how  to  suffer 
and  to  be  still. 
•      12 


194  PANOLA. 

Mark  looked  after  her  as  she  disappeared  through 
the  door  with  the  basket  of  clothes  in  her  hand,  and 
a  deep,  prolonged  sigh  told  what  he  was  feeling ; 
but  he  picked  up  his  book,  and  again  set  himself 
resolutely  to  his  study.  He  repeated  to  himself 
in  a  low  voice  a  sonnet  of  Anne  C.  Lynch,  one 
of  her  finest : 

"  Go  forth  in  life,  oli  friend  !  not  seeking  love  ; 
A  mendicant,  that  with  imploring  eye 
And  outstretched  hand  asks  of  the  passers-by 
The  alms  his  strong  necessities  may  move. 
For  such  poor  love,  to  pity  near  allied, 
Thy  generous  spirit  may  not  stoop  and  wait,' 
A  suppliant  whose  prayer  may  be  denied 
Like  a  spurned  beggar's  at  a  palace  gate : 
But  thy  heart's  affluence  lavish  uncontrolled  : 
The  largess  of  thy  love  give  full  and  free 
As  monarchs  in  their  progress  scatter  gold  ; 
And  be  thy  heart  like  the  exhaustless  sea 
That  must  its  wealth  of  cloud  and  dew  bestow, 
Through  tributary  streams  or  ebb  or  flow." 

There  is  much  value  in  the  acquired  power  which 
all  true  culture  gives  of  self-control,  at  least  of  ex- 
ternal self-control.  It  is  a  duty  that  every  one  owes 
to  humanity  to  keep  out  of  sight  of  others  mental  or 
physical  pain.  The  intuitive  chord  of  sympathy 
which  binds  man  to  man  should  be  respected  and 
never  made  to  jar  or  quiver  unnecessarily.  One  has 
oio  right  to  exploiter  one's  selfish  griefs  or  discom- 
forts. A  decent  respect  for  others  should  forbid 
this.     It  is  not  hypocrisy,  but  a  rightful  considera- 


chicora's   death.  195 

tlon  for  others  which  makes  the  dwellers  in  the 
Hall  of  Eblis  in  Vathek  cover  with  their  rio^ht 
hands  the  dark  hole  in  their  breasts  in  which  their 
hearts  are  ever  burning.  People  are  so  much  affected 
by  their  surroundings,  what  right  has  one  to  shadow 
over  the  horizon  of  others  ?  The  truly  magnanimous 
soul,  who  loves  his  fellows,  may  seek  sympathy  in 
joy,  but  must  keep  sorrow  to  itself.  Panola  nor 
Mark  either  asked  for  sympathy  from  any  one. 
What  was  to  be  endured  they  bore  in  silence  and 
with  outward  calm.  They  had  no  pity  for  weak- 
ness in  themselves,  but  great  charity  for  others,  and 
— they  were  hopeless — they  had  never  had  any  hope. 
It  is  human  to  submit  with  patience  to  the  inevi- 
table. One  gathers  up  the  fragments  into  the 
baskets,  grateful  for  even  the  crumbs  that  are  left 
from  the  feasts  of  others'  lives. 


«  ♦  >  • » 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


chicora's  death. 


TIME  passed.  The  Confederacy  was  ended  ; 
Lee  had  surrendered ;  the  army  was  paroled, 
and  yet  Victor  had  not  returned  to  his  family — to 
his  bride  of  an  hour.     His  letters  had  been  frequent 


196  PANOLA. 

and  all  that  was  tender  for  months.  Suddenly  they 
ceased  to  arrive.  Chicora  fretted  over  this  sudden 
silence  more  than  Panola.  Docteur  Canoncje  was 
open  in  his  wonder  and  his  denunciation  of  the  cruel 
circumstances  which  were  keeping  Victor  away  so 
lonor.  JMark  feared  in  silence.  Panola  said  nothing^, 
"lie  will  come  when  he  is  ready,"  she  would  say  to 
her  impatient  mother. 

A  friend  on  business  called  to  see  Mark.  He  had 
just  come  from  New  Orleans.  He  mentioned  seeing 
Victor,  and  also  Xatika,  who  was  summoned  there 
by  her  agents  about  her  affairs.  jNIark  turned  pale. 
"Natika  in  America!  Natika  in  Xew  Orleans!" 
Alas  !  for  Victor !  What  humiliation  lay  in  store 
for  Panola !     Mark  trembled. 

The  visitor  had  scarcely  quitted  Mark  before  the 
door  of  liis  room  opened  and  Panola  stood  before 
him.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  her  eyes  were  dilated, 
whether  with  grief  or  joy  it  was  impossible  to  say. 
She  held  a  letter  in  her  outstretched  hand  to  Mark. 

''  Mark  !  "  she  said,  breathlessly,  "  Mark  !  I  have 
come  to  you  !  See  ! — read  !  Victor  has  deserted 
me  !     Oh  !  IMark  ! " 

The  tension  of  feeling  was  too  great.  She  sunk 
in  a  dead  faint  at  Mark's  feet.  He  cried  aloud  for 
aid.  He  dragged  himself  from  his  chair  and  lifted 
her  head  from  the  floor.  Lizbette  came  runniuo^  in ; 
she  brought  water  and  soon  restored  Panola  to  con- 
sciousness.   Panola  pushed  the  hair  back  which  had 


ciiicora's   death.  107 

fallen  from  the  confining  ribbons,  rubbed  her  eyes 
and  looked  around  in  a  confused  state  of  mind.  But 
her  eyes  grew  intelligent  as  she  saw  Mark  sitting  by 
her  on  the  floor,  and  the  letter  lying  where  it  had 
dropped  from  her  hand  as  she  fell.  Lizbette  had 
trodden  it  under  foot.  Pauola  stretched  out  her 
hand  to  reach  it. 

"  I  remember  now,"  she  said.  "  It  is  Victor^s 
letter !  Read  it !  He  is  gone  to  Xatika !  He 
"will  never  come  back  again  !  He  is  gone  forever ! 
Eead  it ! " 

Mark  snatched  the  letter  from  her,  read  it,  and 
every  vein  on  his  forehead  swelled  with  indignation 
as  he  did  read  it.  Victor  wrote  desperately.  He 
threw  himself  upon  Panola's  generosity  for  forgive- 
ness of  all  the  wrong  and  humiliation  he  was  doing 
her.  He  said  that  he  could  make  no  reparation 
but  to  leave  her.  He  had  again  met  the  only  woman 
he  had  ever  really  loved,  and  he  was  now  separated 
from  her  as  well  as  from  Panola  by  his  own  mad  act; 
his  future  must  be  miserable,  he  said,  but  he  would 
spend  it  alone,  far  from  both.  At  last  he  had  found 
that  Xatika  loved  him ;  he  did  not  think  Panola 
would  suffer  as  much  as  she  had,  or  as  he  did ;  if 
she  could  find  any  redress  at  the  law,  he  thought  she 
had  better  seek  it.  Then  he  begged  her  to  forgive 
him,  and  to  pity  his  utter  misery  in  being  compelled 
to  write  such  words  to  her;  he  would  never  Icok  on 
her  face  again. 


198  PANOLA. 

iMark  angrily  flung  the  letter  from  hira. 

"  Dastardly  villain  !  ^'  lie  said,  "  with  no  purpose 
nor  strength — unstable  as  water;  a  curse  to  himself 
and  to  all  connected  with  hini/^ 

Panola  laid  her  hand  liglitly  on  Mark's  arm. 

"  ]\Iark,"  she  said,  "  don't  blame  poor  A'ictor  so 
much.  It  is  better  so  !  better  so  !  I  did  not  love 
Victor  as  I  should  have  done  !  The  thing  now  is 
to  irive  him  freedom  and  to  tell  mamma.  Oh! 
!Mark,  how  shall  I  tell  this  to  mamma?  she  is  so 
devoted  to  Victor/'  and  Panola  began  to  weep  for 
the  first  time  in  all  her  troubles;  the  tears  streamed 
forth  A'eely;  she  leaned  her  head  on  the  arm  of 
]\Iark's  chair  and  sobbed  aloud. 

I\Iark  moved  his  hand  as  if  to  lay  it  soothingly 
upon  the  bowed,  light  head,  but  checked  himself 
and  leaned  back  with  a  fixed  look  in  his  face.  He 
clasped  his  hands  tightly  together  so  they  should 
not  be  tempted  to  stray  lovingly  over  her  head,  and 
he  sat  trembling  like  a  leaf.  Panola  wept  on — oh! 
the  blessed  relief  of  those  tears. 

"AVho  was  to  tell  Docteur  Canonge?''  Mark 
thoufrht,  and  shrank  from  the  task. 

The  dear,  fond  old  man !  Every  feeling  would 
be  outraged  by  Victor's  base  conduct.  His  keen 
sense  of  honor,  his  pride,  his  affection,  all  Avounded 
to  the  very  quick.     Mark  groaned  aloud. 

He  a2;reed  with  Panola  that  great  caution  would 
be  requisite  in  breaking  this  news  to  Mrs.  Flanoy. 


chicora's   death.  199 

He  was  willing  to  undertake  the  painful  duty  as 
soon  as  he  had  explained  all  to  his  grandi'ather. 
So  Panola  rose  up,  dried  her  eyes  and  went  home, 
in  order  to  send  Cherokee  Joe  with  some  vehicle 
in  which  Mark  might  be  conveyed  to  Mrs.  Flanoy's. 
Mark  was  in  the  habit  of  ridino;  out  in  a  carriaG:e 
when  they  had  been  able  to  keep  up  an  equipage. 
Poor  Confederates  now  had  neither  horses  nor 
carriages. 

Mark  had  a  sorrowful  scene  with  his  grandfather. 
The  old  man  tore  his  hair  when  he  had  read  Vic- 
tor's letter;  he  raved;  hew^ept;  his  affliction  was 
dreadful  to  see.  His  pity  for  Panola  was  infinite, 
and  yet  he  said  "  it  was  better  she  should  be  freed 
from  such  a  base,  dishonorable  man  as  Victor.'' 
Mark  soothed  the  fiery,  high-spirited  old  man  as 
well  as  he  could,  and  at  last  got  off  so  as  to  go  to 
INIrs.  Flanoy's  iu  the  chair  which  Cherokee  Joe  had 
by  this  time  brought  to  the  door. 

Mark  felt  himself  quail  for  a  few  moments  be- 
fore his  painful  task.  He  rolled  himself  along  the 
level  galleries,  and  into  the  room  where  Chicora  was 
lying,  unsuspicious  of  the  heart-rending  information 
he  was  conveying  to  her.  Chicora  greeted  Mark 
very  affectionately.  Molly,  the  wife  of  Joe,  was 
sitting  by  Chicora. 

*'  I  am  really  glad  you  happened  to  come  to  see 
me,  !Mark,"  said  Chicora.  "  I  was  thinking  of 
sending  after  Docteur  Canonge.     My  heart  seems 


200  PANOLA. 

to  be  very  queer  to-day.  It  beats  so  irregularly, 
and  sometimes  seems  to  pause  for  a  whole  second  in 
its  pulsation.  I  fear  the  stiffness  is  spreading 
internally.  Have  you  heard  anything  yet  from 
Victor  ?  I  do  wish  he  was  here  I  \)hy  don't  he 
come  ?  " 

JMark  drew  a  long  breath  and  nerved  himself, 
then  as  gently  and  tenderly  as  he  could  he  told  the 
sad  tale  of  his  cousin's  unpardonable  abandonment 
of  Panola  to  the  amazed  and  even  incredulous 
woman.  As  his  fidl  meaning  burst  upon  her  mind, 
a  cry  escaped  her  lips ;  a  shrill,  fierce  cry,  like  the 
scream  of  an  angry  eagle.  It  harrowed  Mark's  very 
soul.  After  that  one  cry  Chicora  lay  sileut  for  a 
moment,  then,  turning  her  eyes  towards  the  Indian 
Molly,  she  uttered  a  few  words  in  the  Cherokee 
tongue.  Molly  threw  up  her  hands  over  her  head 
in  a  passionate,  savage  gesture,  and  quitted  the 
room. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  opened  noiselessly 
and  Cherokee  Joe  stood  motionless  before  Chicora's 
couch.  She  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  pouring  out 
red,  fiery  light ;  her  voice  was  low  and  monotonous 
as  she  spoke  in  her  native  tongue.  She  hissed  the 
sentences  out  slowly  and  emphatically.  Joe  started 
at  Chicora's  first  words,  and  cast  an  angry  look  at 
Mark,  then  his  face  grew  stolid  and  fixed  as  he 
listened  to  Chicora.  His  wife  had  stolen  back,  and 
at  Chicora's  last  words  she  held  out  to  Joe  one  of 


cm  Cora's   death.  201 

the  diamond  snakes,  the  totem  which  Panola  usually 
wore.  Joe  lifted  the  snake  high  above  his  head 
and  said  some  words  in  the  Cherokee,  wdiich  his 
wife  solemnly  repeated  after  him.  Mark  only  dis- 
tino-uished  the  words  ^'  Satana ''  and  "  Panola.'^  He 
saw  from  the  pantomime  an  oath  was  being  registered 
on  the  totem.  Joe  thrust  the  snake  into  his  bosom 
and  glided  out  of  the  room.  Chicora  smiled,  a 
fearful  smile  of  anticipated  vengeance,  as  she  looked 
after  Joe's  retreatins:  fijiure,  then  she  closed  her  e3'es 
with  a  long,  shuddering  sigh.  A  faint,  weary  look 
came  over  her  face.  "  Mark,"  she  whispered,  "  my 
heart  flutters." 

Mark  put  his  fingers  upon  her  temple  to  count 
the  th robbings.  His  face  turned  white :  the  pulsa- 
tion was  nearly  gone. 

"  I  must  have  grandfather  here,"  he  said  quickly 
to  Molly.     ^'  Send  for  him  instantly." 

Chicora  smiled;  she  "revived;  she  said,  "It  is 
all  over;  my  hour  is  come;  call  Panola;  you  will 
be  good  to  my  child,  Mark,  if  possible;  you  will 
do  whatever  you  can ;  you  are  good  and  true — 
send  for  Panola." 

She  came  running  swiftly.  She  hastened  to  her 
mother ;  bent  over  her  in  anguish  :  "  Mamma  !  my 
mother  !  my  darling  !  " 

Chicora  fixed  her  eyes  on  her  child  :  "  jNIy  child," 
she  said,  gently,  "  my  poor,  lonely  daughter !  the 
Great  Spirit  calls  for  me ;  even  now  the  angel  of 


202  PANOLA. 

death  pauses  upon  ray  threshold.  He  is  welcome ! 
Let  the  messenger  of  tlie  All-father  enter  in  peace ! 
Chicora  is  very  weary ;  her  heart  has  been  bleeding 
lono;,  and  she  lono^s  for  rest.  You  will  be  strons; 
to  bear  all  that  comes  to  you;  you  will  not  weep  for 
Victor.  A  Cherokee  does  not  weep.  Joe  will  go 
to  Satana.  The  chief  will  look  after  you.  The 
white  man  is  not  good  to  be  trusted ;  and  now,  my 
child,  good-bye ;  Chicora  goes  to  the  Great  Father." 
Panola  kissed  her  mother  in  silent  anguish. 

Chicora  had  closed  her  eyes  calmly  after  speaking 
to  her  daughter.  She  wdiispered  now :  "  Let  me 
pass  in  peace ;  there  should  be  no  tears  nor  outcry 
at  the  deathbed  of  Chicora ;  she  is  the  daughter  of 
chiefs.     I  forbid  you  to  weep.'^ 

Panola  uttered  a  great  sob,  then  with  an  immense 
effort  of  will  she  controlled  her  natural  grief,  and 
kneeling  down  by  her  mother  laid  her  arm  over 
her,  fixed  her  eyes  steadily  upon  her  face  and  was 
quiet  and  moveless  as  stone.  Chicora  lay  calm  and 
smiling.  Her  breathing  grew  slov\'er  and  slower; 
sliglit  convulsions  passed  over  her  face.  The  great 
struggles  of  her  heart  could  be  counted  in  the 
intense  silence.  From  time  to  time  Chicora  would 
open  her  eyes  and  look  steadily  into  the  eyes  of  her 
child.  There  seemed  to  be  an  interchange  of  nerve- 
aura  between  the  two :  at  that  supreme  moment 
they  were  conscious  of  the  oneness  of  their  spirits. 
Mark  sat  perfectly  immovable^  looking  in  awe  at 


cuicora's   death.  20 


o 


the  two  women  whose  souls  were  so  strong  in  the 
bitterest  sorrows  of  humanity. 

Suddenly  Chicora  spoke  a  few  words  to  !Molly  in 
the  native  tongue.  The  woman  rose  to  her  feet, 
and  standing  erect  at  the  foot  of  Chicora's  couch,  she 
began  to  sing  a  low,  solemn  chant,  the  death-song 
of  Chicora.  The  woman's  voice  was  very  sweet  and 
clear,  and  Mark  could  follow  the  changes  of  mean-W 
ing  from  the  cadences,  now  plaintive  and  soft,  now 
triumphant  and  joyous,  as  she  chanted  the  youth, 
the  beauty,  the  happiness  of  Chicora,  and  then  the 
sorrows  of  her  checquered  life. 

Chicora's  expressive  countenance  changed  accord- 
ing to  the  words  of  the  song.  Molly's  voice  sunk 
to  a  soft  wail  as  she  uttered  the  prayers  for  peace 
and  rest  that  the  dying  woman  craved.  A  beautiful 
serenity  spread  over  her  features,  and  as  the  song 
died  awav  consciousness  faded  out  of  her  eves.  Chi- 
cora  never  spoke  again.  Docteur  Canonge  came, 
but  could  do  nothing  for  her.  That  night  she 
died. 

"It  is  the  strangest  malady  I  ever  saw,"  said 
Docteur  Canonge;  "I  have  seen  nothing  like  it  in 
all  my  practice." 


204  PANOLA. 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE    PHILOSOPHY     OF     LOVE. 

MARK  wrote  briefly  and  sternly  to  Victor,  tell- 
ing him  of  the  resolution  of  Panola  to  seek 
fwa  divorce  from  the  bonds  which  fettered  both ;  and 
of  the  death  of  Chicora.  He  received  several  wildly 
agitated,  almost  incoherent  letters  in  response,  from 
which  he  gathered  an  idea  of  the  condition  of  mind 
in  which  his  half-frantic  cousin  now  was  living. 

Xatika  had  heard  in  Paris  of  Victor's  marriage. 
Her  first  feeling  was  that  of  indignant  rage  at  the 
unexpected  escape  of  the  slave,  who  had  given  to 
her  his  life-long  homage.  Her  second  impulse  was 
that  she  would  break  up  all  these  impertinent  ar- 
rangements, and  therefore  she  sailed  for  America. 
Besides,  she  was  not  well ;  she  had  had  a  very  ex- 
hausting season  ;  she  had  been  very  gay  and  had  lat- 
terly felt  as  if  the  pursuit  of  vapid  amusements  was  a 
great  labor.  She  was  thoroughly  out  of  health,  and 
also  out  of  temper.  Her  physicians  prescribed  rest 
and  a  sea-vovage  ;  so  she  came  home. 

On  arrivinir  in  Xew  Orleans,  she  ascertained 
Victor's  whereabouts,  and  she  wrote  a  few  hasty 
lines  to  him,  making  no  allusion  whatever  to  his 
marriacre,  as  if  she  had  never  heard  of  it.  Victor 
hesitated  about  meeting  her.     He  took  up  his  pen 


THE     PIIILOSOrilY     OF     LOVE.      205 

to  write  her  to  tell  her  of  his  marriage  ;  but  then  a 
great  desire  came  over  him  to  see  her  for  himself, 
and  to  tell  her  of  it  himself.     And  this  feeling  was 
not  unmixed  with  a  sensation  of  bitter  curiosity  to 
see  how  Natika  would  receive  the  news  of  his  eman- 
cipation from  her  power.     In  an  evil  moment  Vic- 
tor yielded  to  this  impulse,  and  instead  of  writing  to 
Natika,  went  to  her.     He  found  her  looking  badly, 
pale  and  thin.     She  met  him  with  unusual  tender- 
ness, and  he  felt  his  soul  faint  within  him  as  he  re- 
ceived her  affectionate  greeting,  and  thought  of  what 
he  had  to  communicate  to  her.     But  it  had  to  be 

done. 

Victor  stammered  out  his  tale  like  a  culprit.    Ka- 
tika  heard  it  with  open  scorn  and  anger— Victor 
hoped   even   with   some   jealousy.      She    snatched 
her  hand   from  his  after  he  had  made  his  confes- 
sion, and  with  a  few  bitter,   scathing    words,  she 
dragged  her  skirts  away  from  contact  with  him  as 
he  was  sitting   beside  her.     Then   she  burst  into 
tears  and  quitted  the  room  in  a  whirlwind  of  passion 
and  temper.     For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Victor 
thouo-ht  that  Katika  loved  him,  and  though  the  first 
sensaUon  of  this  made  his  heart  leap  as  it  never  had 
before,  yet  the  next  moment,  when  he  recollected  the 
barriers  he  had  placed  between  Katika  and  himself, 
the  very  blood  seemed  to  freeze  in  his  veins.     He 
became  icy  cold.     An  immense  wave  of  hatred  to- 
wards Panola,  and  himself  to,  surged  through  him. 


206  PANOLA. 

He  stao^crered  out  of  the  room  and  ejot  somehow 
into  his  own  apartment.  He  threw  himself  down 
in  a  chair  with  a  groan  of  utter  desperation.  He 
felt  half  dead  and  utterly  bewildered.  He  sat  so  for 
hours,  then,  with  the  strength  of  despair,  he  wrote 
his  wild  letter  to  Panola,  and  one  equally  wild  to 
Natika;  and  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  it  all,  and  to 
•  himself  too.  But  Xatika  knew  him.  He  had 
scarcely  closed  and  sealed  his  last  letter  to  her,  and 
he  had  the  pistol  in  his  hand  to  make  a  finish  of  all 
things,  when  Xatika  rapped  violently  at  his  door. 
Receiving  no  response,  she  forced  it  open ;  the  key 
had  not  caught  firmly  when  he  had  attempted  to 
lock  it  with  his  agitated  hand.  Xatika  sprang  ia 
and  seized  the  pistol  from  Victor. 

"  I  knew  it!  '^  she  exclaimed.  ^'  Oh,  Victor,  what 
a  craven  you  are!  Too  weak  to  live,  and  yet  you 
would  condemn  me  to  eternal  misery  and  infinite 
remorse  by  your  own  folly  and  madness.^' 

He  did  not  reply.  He  looked  gloomily  at 
Xatika. 

"What  else  is  left?''  he  asked. 

She  saw  that  he  was  desperate.  She  came  to 
him.  She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck.  She  laid 
her  head  upon  his  bosom.  Victor  embraced  her 
j)assionately. 

"A^ctor,"  she  said,  "you  have  placed  barriers 
between  us  that  I  can  not  pass.  But  one  thing  I 
can  do,  and  that  I  will  do.     I  can  not  give  myself 


THE     PniLOSOPHT    OF     LOVE.      207 

to  yon,  but  I  can  live  for  yon,  and  keep  myself  free 
from  any  other  ties  for  your  sake ;  that  I  will  do." 

Victor  threw  himself  at  her  feet  and  buried  his 
head  in  the  hem  of  her  garment;  and  he  wept 
bitterly. 

"  Natika/'  he  sobbed,  "  Xatika,  show  me  how  to 
give  my  life  to  you.  You  know  it  has  always  been 
yours." 

So  Natika  triumphed,  but  she  continued  to  play  the 
role  of  an  almost  broken-hearted  woman,  her  pale- 
ness and  emaciation  aiding  in  keeping  up  the  char- 
acter satisfactorily. 

Xatika  was  half  deceived  herself;  she  was  such  a 
good  actress,  for  the  moment  she  entered  so  entirely 
into  any  impersonation,  that  she  was,  pour  le  mo- 
ment, that  creature  of  the  imagination,  whether  it 
was  Hermione  or  Camille,  or,  as  now,  a  sentimental, 
much-injured,  sensitive  woman.  And  Victor  be- 
lieved in  her,  and  he  was  so  flattered  by  this 
late  acknowledged  love  of  Natika's.  And  he  Jcnew 
Panola  did  not  love  him!  He  cursed  his  fate  and 
his  own  obstinacy  thousands  of  times;  and  he 
eagerly  sought  the  consolation  of  Natika's  tender- 
ness. HLeJelt  somehow  as  if  a  bond,  perhaps  of 
lonely  guiltiness,  united  them  the  closer.  In  all 
mankind  he  and  !N^atika  were  alone,  even  in  the 
general  condemnation  and  social  reproach  that  he 
knew  would  follow  both.  Thousrh  Natika  had  too 
much   self-respect  and  too  much  wisdom   to   give 


208  PANOLA. 

herself  wholly  to  him,  yet  there  v:as  a  delirious  sort 
of  rapture  for  Victor  in  merely  beholding  her  and 
knowing  that  she  never  would  belong  to  another. 

Very  few  men  or  women  are  really  capable  of 
the  highest  sentiment  of  love.  The  majority  of  both 
sexes  are  impelled  toward  each  other  by  mere  in- 
stincts, which,  of  course,  are  valuable  as  any  other 
instincts,  and  quite  as  necessary  as  any  other  im- 
pulses to  make  a  perfect  man  or  woman.  Human 
nature  is  defective  without  all  the  passions,  but  the 
ordinary  impulses  must  be  controlled  by  education 
and  culture  and  right  reason  in  order  to  make  a  fine 
human  being. 

The  electric  forces  which  draw  man  and  woman 
to  each  other,  the  general  and  ordinary  magnetism, 
which  may  be  only  j^hy sic al,  or  perhaps  more  justly 
be  called  chemical,  the  affinity  which  unites  atom  to 
atom  in  all  physical  nature,  which  is  often  experi- 
enced in  life  among  human  beings,  in  a  stronger  or 
weaker  degree,  is  not  the  truest  and  highest  senti- 
ment which  the  human  soul  is  capable  of  feeling. 
And  the  reason  why  there  are  so  many  wretched  mar- 
riages is  because  men  and  women  mistake  this  com- 
mon  and  universal  magnetism,  for  7^eal  lorejerence, 
for  true  sympathy,  for  holiest  love;  and  it  fails 
them,  as  all  mere  physical  impulses  do ;  as  hunger 
does  when  it  is  satisfied.  Most  people  love  ^'love,^^ 
not  the  individual  lover.  They  like  soft  tones  and 
tender  words  and  warmth  of  embraces.     But  of  the 


THE     PHILOSOPHY    OF     LOVE.      209 

absolute  oneness  of  soul  and  sympathy,  the  inexhaust- 
ible fountain  of  true  fellowship,  and  eternal  pro- 
gression together  in  love  and  excellence  towards  the 
highest — that  few  do  know,  or  few  pause  to  think 
about.  Yet  this  is  the  only  satisfying  love ;  and  it 
is  possible  !  AVhen  a  soul  is  so  happy  as  to  attain  to 
this  love,  life  is  enriched  and  glorified  beyond  ordi- 
nary conception.  Even  if  the  love  should  never  be 
what  is  called  fortunate — that  is,  if  the  two,  loving 
in  this  holy  manner,  should  never  belong  to  one 
another — there  remains  the  exquisite  bliss  of  having 
been  once  fully  comprehended ;  of  being  perfectly 
appreciated  and  understood.  And  the  parted  ones 
are  better  and  nobler  and  happier.  Their  souls  can 
never  be  utterly  lonely.  If  deprived  of  the  ordinary 
joys  of  life,  they  have  the  highest  and  purest  still 
left — a  conscious  sympathy  in  progressing  towards 
the  goal  of  the  highest  possible  for  humanity. 

There  is  nothing  so  fearful  to  man  as  utter  lone- 
liness and  isolation  from  all  sympathy.  It  is  a  sor- 
rowful fate  to  be  alone ;  and  those  men  and  women 
who  wreck  their  natures  under  the  leading  of  lower 
impulses,  miss  the  deepest  joy  of  life. 

Mark,  even  in  his  wretched  est  hours,  felt  this. 
His  love  for  Panola  was  a  distinguishing  preference. 
Out  of  all  the  earth  she  was  the  one  elected  woman 
for  him.  She,  too,  was  capable  of  such  a  love. 
Katika  was  not ;  and  he  pitied  Victor  and  Natika 
13 


210  PANOLA. 

more  than    he    did    himself  or    Panola,  as    these 
thouiihts  rushed  often  thronojh  his  mind. 

Docteur  Canonge  was  so  much  grieved  by  the 
conduct  of  A'ictor  and  Xatika,  that  he  never  spoke 
of  them  but  once  to  ]\Iark  after  he  heard  of  their 
hasty  marriage.     Then  he  said,  quietly  : 

"  It  is  exceeding  great  misfortune  for  boz  of  zem, 
and  for  zeir  offspring.  Zey  have  neider  of  zem  good 
constitution.  Victor  have  de  mos'  feeble  of  zie  two. 
I  can  foresee  no  good  result  from  zis  marriage.  I 
sink,  wiz  Plato,  zat  a  government — zat  is,  society — 
has  zie  right  to  forbid  such  marriages  as  will  entail 
upon  humanity  weak  and  imperfect  generation  of 
men  and  women.  In  zat  I  disagree  wiz  George 
Sand,  and  George  Eliot,  too.  George  Sand  teaches 
in  her  novels,  wiz  her  powerful  pen,  zat  zie  height 
of  human  love  is  zie  imitation  of  zie  Divine  love  of 
Christ,  and  zerefore  zie  highest  love  is  zat  of  entire 
self-abnegation  or  charitee,  in  which  zie  woman  sail 
love  her  inferior,  from  whom  she  can  expect  nozing, 
and  who  will  probably  repay  her  devotion  wiz  in- 
gratitude. So  she  teaches  in  ^  Lucrezia  Floriani,' 
and  ordinarily  also  in  all  zat  she  writes.  Her  heroes 
are  usually  poor  sticks.  And  also  George  Eliot, 
she  make  her  women  always  zie  nobler  of  zie  two, 
like  Maggie  in  ^  Zie  Mill  on  zie  Floss,'  and  ^  Ro- 
mola,'  and  also  in  her  ozer  books.  Zat  is  not  good 
instruction  for  young  people.  Zie  trutt  is,  zat  what- 
ever we  cherish  as  our  ideal  will  generally  form  our 


THE     rillLOSOPHY    OF     LOVE.      211 

character.  "What  we  love,  we  will  grow  like.  Zat 
is  a  rule  in  physics,  and  also  metaphysics.  All  zle 
young  peoples  should  be  taught  zie  lessons  of  psy- 
chology and  of  physiology ;  and  zey  should  learn  to 
govern  zeir  impulses  wiz  right  reason.  Zey  should 
be  instructed  zat  zey  owe  someting  to  humanity,  and 
zat  zey  must  often  make  great  sacrifice  for  zie  good 
of  zie  race.  Zere  can  be  no  compensation  to  hu- 
manity for  an  imperfect  child,  and  zerefore  marriage 
zould  be  in  some  degree  a  matter  of  legislation  of 
zie  State.  Plato  is  riglit.  Zie  charitee  or  love  of 
Christ,  which  zie  modern  writers  do  hold  up  for 
imitation,  is  good  in  zie  dominion  of  external  brother- 
hood only.  It  is  not  intended  to  govern,  except 
generally;  not  zie  world  of  inner  life  and  reproduc- 
tion of  kind.  Zie  man  or  zie  woman  who  love,  as 
zeir  highest,  imperfect  and  undeveloped  beings, 
lower  zan  zeirselves,  eider  physically  or  morally  or 
mentally,  zey  show  a  blunted  moral  sense.  One 
can  pity  an  inferior,  but  not  love  zem  wiz  zie  high- 
est of  zie  soul-gifts.  And  it  is  great  wrong  to  hu- 
manity. Of  course  I  do  not  speak  of  zie  accidents 
of  life — rank,  birth  or  wealth.  I  do  not  regard  zem. 
I  mean  zie  personality  of  zie  two.  Xo  one  should 
ever  marry  wizout  fullest  love  and  fullest  health, 
both  of  mind  and  body.  And  when  zose  qualities 
are  found,  zen  people  should  marry  as  a  duty  to  so- 
ciety, wezer  zey  be  rich  or  poor.     Sympathy  and 


212  PAIiOLA.  V 

health,  zat  is  essential,  and  this  should  be  legislated 
upon/^ 

"  What  an  old  Platonist  he  is/'  thought  Mark. 
"And  so  sweet  and  good,  too." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MADAME     BOLLIX  G^S     FLOWERS. 

MARK  was  sitting  in  his  chair.  He  had  rolled 
himself  out  of  the  room  in  which  Chicora's 
body  lay.  The  coffin  which  was  to  receive  it  had 
to  come  from  a  distance,  and  Mark  had  undertaken 
the  night  watch  with  Indian  Joe,  by  the  body.  The 
two  men  sat  silently  hour  by  hour.  The  room  in 
which  Chicora  lay  was  brilliantly  lighted,  but  the 
adjoining  apartment  in  which  Mark  and  Joe  now 
sat  was  dark.  The  door  was  open  between  the 
chambers,  and  Mark  had  a  clear  view  of  the  couch 
upon  which  the  remains  were  lying,  covered  over 
with  a  white  sheet.  Some  flowers  were  scattered 
upon  it.  Joe  sat  with  his  head  bent  down,  his 
hands  clasped  around  his  knees,  as  he  crouched  on 
the  floor  by  Mark  in  the  attitude  of  Indian  mourn- 
ing. He  had  sat  motionless  as  a  fakir  all  the 
night. 


MADAME    BOLLIKG'S    PLOTTERS.     213 

It  was  now  past  midnight.  Mark  was  meditate 
ing  on  all  the  past,  lost  in  his  recollections,  whoa 
suddenly  he  felt  in  the  darkness  the  pressure  of  Joe's 
hand  upon  his,  and  a  smothered  "hist"  from  the 
Indian's  lips.  The  door  entering  from  the  verandah 
into  the  next  room  slowly  opened,  a  figure  clothed 
in  deep  black  glided  in,  followed  by  the  bent  form 
of  old  Xana.  The  old  negress  tottered  in,  shaking 
her  white  head  as  if  it  was  palsied,  keeping  as  close 
as  she  could  to  her  mistress,  for  it  was  indeed 
Madame  BoUins:,  who  came  in  now  unbidden  and 
unchecked  into  the  presence  of  the  dead  woman 
who  had  so  hated  her.  Madame  was  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  and  had  a  black  hood  drawn  over 
her  head.  The  hem  of  her  skirts  was  wet  and 
draggled  with  the  heavy  night-dews  she  had  walked 
throu<rh  in  coraino-  from  the  Pavilion  to  the  house. 

o  o 

Madame  looked  around,  but  seeing  no  one,  she 
came  forward  into  the  room.  She  stood  by  the  corpse. 
Mark  felt  Cherokee  Joe's  hand  closing  over  his  with 
the  clasp  of  an  iron  vice.  The  two  men  watched. 
Madame  Boiling  laid  the  sheet  back  from  the  proud, 
sad,  silent  face.  It  was  very  noble  in  its  sculptured 
stillness.  Madame  looked  down  upon  it  steadfastly. 
Nana  crept  up  by  her  side,  and  looked  too.  Ma- 
dame gazed  until  she  was  satisfied,  then  taking  some 
flowers  out  from  under  her  cloak,  she  placed  them 
on  the  breast  of  the  corpse.  "  I  bring  my  offering, 
Chicora/'  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.     ''  You  hated 


214  PANOLA. 

me  and  you  are  hcrCy^  Inlying  the  sheet  back  over 
the  dead  face. 

Madame  Boiling  went  out  as  quietly  as  she  had 
entered  the  room.  Nana  hobbled  after  her.  Keleas- 
ing  iMark's  hand,  Joe  went  swiftly  to  the  side  of 
the  body.  Mark  rolled  himself  after  him.  The 
wheels  of  Mark's  chair  were  noiseless.  They  were 
kept  covered  with  felt  to  prevent  noise.  Joe  had 
taken  out  the  flowers  that  Madame  Boiling:  had 
placed  on  Chicora's  breast.  They  were  a  pretty 
bunch  of  sweet  pea  blossoms,  tied  with  a  white 
satin  riband.  Joe  looked  at  them,  smelled  them, 
and  handed  them  to  Mark.  Mark  did  the  same. 
They  were  harmless  flowers  enough.  Joe  took  the 
flowers  as  ]\Iark  laid  them  down  on  the  sheet  asrain, 
and  going  to  the  window  he  threw  them  out  as  far  as 
he  could  send  them. 

"  Chicora  not  like  Madame  Boiling,"  he  said  to 
Mark.     "  Xot  like  her  flowers.'' 

Mark  nodded  his  head.  He  thought  Joe  was 
right.     . 


A  SUCCESSFUL  DEBUTANTE.   215 
CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A     SUCCESSFUL     DEBUTANTE. 

THE  Southern  States  were  in  a  very  prostrate 
condition.      All    property   was   greatly   de- 
pressed in  value.     Taxes  were  in  arrears,  and  the 
labor  was  so  uncertain  that  those  who  had  most  land 
Avere  the  worst  off.     They  had  more  taxes  and  debts 
to  pav,  and   less   money  to  meet  their  obligations 
with.     The  sugar  estates  were  lying  fallow  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  and  the  people  who  owned  them  were 
absolutely  starving  in  the  midst  of  their  fertile  but 
uncultivated  fields.     Little  debts  accumulated  from 
interest,  and  large  plantations  were  sold  for  a  mere 
trifle.     The   people  were  very  poor  and  unaccus- 
tomed to  labor.     It  was  very  piteous.     The  mere 
physical  distress  was  agonizing  to  witness.     Misery, 
wretchedness,  and  a  feeble  struggle   for   the   bare 
necessaries  of  life  met  the  eye  on  every  side.     The 
misfortune  was  universal.     A  whole  race  had  gone 
down  in  this  Titanic  fight,  and  now  they  were  per- 
ishing off  the  earth,  which  had  no  further  use  for 
that  class   of  people.     Nature  appears  to  be  ver>^ 
pitiless,  but  the  roots  of  progress  seem  to  be  planted 
always  in  the  grave  of  the  past. 

Three  races  were  dying  out  now  in  the  Southern 
States.     There  was   the  race   of  the  white  slave- 


216  PAXOLA. 

owner,  the  aristocratic  gentleman  of  America.  Ilis 
knell  had  been  sounded.  Tiien  the  fiat  had  gone 
forth  against  the  red  Indian.  He  was  to  be  hunted 
from  off  the  earth.  Thea  the  doom  bad  been 
written  on  the  wall  against  the  African.  He  was 
to  be  absorbed  and  to  be  killed  by  vice  and  intem- 
perance, and  lack  of  moral  discipline.  None  but 
the  strong  races  can  survive  in  this  perpetual  con- 
flict of  humanity.  Its  issues  are  good  for  the  world, 
but  individuals  suffer  in  the  trampling  under  foot 
of  this  mastodon,  Progress. 

Philosophers  may  watch  with  intelligent  gaze  this 
changing  woof  in  the  loom  of  earthly  life.  But 
often  the  threads  may  be  dyed  in  the  philosopher's 
heart's  blood.  It  is  only  the  gods  who  sit  upon  the 
height  of  Olympus  who  survey  human  affairs  with 
calm  eyes  and  impartial  interest.  Some  clever 
l^eople  had  foreseen  the  end  of  the  strife,  and  had 
wisely  made  provision  against  the  evil  day. 

Amono^st  these  was  Madame  Boilins:.  She  had 
managed  somehow,  by  trading  and  "  looking 
around,''  to  pick  up  a  few  hundred  bales  of  cotton, 
which  she  now  sold  at  the  price  of  four  hundred 
dollars  per  bale.  It  gave  her  a  nice  little  sum  to 
start  again  in  the  world  with. 

Panola  had  left  her  place  in  her  aunt's  care,  while 
she  had  gone  to  New  Orleans  to  consult  a  lawyer  as 
to  the  mode  necessary  for  her  to  take  in  order  to 
free  Victor  from  the  bonds  he  had  put  upon  his 


A     SUCCESSFUL     DEBUTANTE.      217 

own  liands  as  Avell  as  hers.  Slie  found  little  diffi- 
culty ;  though  the  laws  of  Louisiana  are  very 
stringent  in  regard  to  marriage,  yet  the  proof  of 
Victor's  abandonment  of  his  wife  of  an  hour  was 
so  conclusive,  being  his  own  statements  in  his  own 
letter,  that  the  judge  gave  the  decision  immediately 
in  favor  of  the  divorce,  allowing  Panola  to  resume 
her  maiden  name  of  Flanoy. 

While  she  was  in  New  Orleans  attending  to  this 
business,  she  was  astounded  to  see  a  notice  in  the 
papers  of  the  sale  of  her  mother's  property  on  ac- 
count of  a  small  debt  and  judgment  for  back  taxes. 
The  sale  was  by  the  sheriff  of  the  parish,  and  her 
aunt  had  bought  in  the  whole  property  for  a  mere 
sonor.  Panola  had  known  nothinoj  of  the  matter 
until  she  saw  this  notice.  But  the  next  day  she 
had  a  letter  from  her  aunt,  telling  her  that  she  had 
purchased  the  estate,  and  oflPering  to  Panola  a  home 
Avith  her  in  very  affectionate  terms. 

Panola  laid  the^letter  down  with  surprise.  She 
did  not  understand  this  move  at  all.  But  it  all 
seemed  to  be  done  legally.  She  also  had  a  letter 
from  Mark,  reproaching  her  for  not  letting  him 
know  about  this  debt  and  the  condition  of  her 
affairs.  "  He  might,  perhaps,  have  found  some 
means  of  aiding  her,  or  at  least  of  raising  the  money 
by  mortgage  on  the  property." 

Panola  was  amazed ;  but  one  thing  was  clear  to 
her.     She  had  lost  her  estate.     If  she  had  known 


218  PANOLA. 

of  it  in  time,  slie  was  sure,  if  she  had  applied  to 
Satana,  he  would  have  helped  her.  But  what  to  do 
now  she  did  not  see.  A  home  with  her  aunt  Boil- 
ing she  would  not  accept.  Though  Panola  had 
never  shared  her  mother's  dislike  to  her  aunt,  yet 
she  felt  somehow  as  if  she  would  not  like  to  live 
with  or  to  be  dependent  on  her.  So  she  wrote  a 
note  declining  her  aunt's  proffered  kindness;  and  to 
!Mark  she  wrote,  frankly  telling  him  she  had  not 
known  anything  about  the  law  suit  and  judgment. 
But  it  was  too  late  to  remedy  the  evil  now.  The 
property  was  gone.  Docteur  Cauonge  wrote  a  lov- 
ing letter  to  Panola,  inviting  her  to  come  '^to  take 
care  of  him  and  his  poor  Mark."  Panola  wept 
over  the  affectionate  letter  of  the  good  old  man. 
But  she  could  not  go  to  Docteur  Canonge.  Shortly 
afterward  Mark  received  this  letter  from  her : 

"  Deak  Mark  : — I  have  at  last  succeeded  in 
arranging  my  little  affairs.  Through  the  kindness 
of  Von  La  Plache  and  Olivera,  who  aided  me,  the 
one  on  the  piano,  and  tlie  other  with  his  exquisite 
violin,  I  gave  a  very  successful  concert  here  last 
night.  You  will  see  the  notice  of  it  in  the  jiapers 
of  the  day,  which  I  send  you.  The  laudations  are 
rather  extravagant,  but  it  was  quite  a  little  triumph 
for  me.  I  was  rather  not  frightened,  more  excited, 
when  Olivera  led  me  on  to  the  stage,  violin  in  hand. 
(My    Straduarius    is    finer    than    his    instrument.) 


A     SUCCESSFUL     DEBUTANTE.       219 

You  know  mine  was  found  in  Mexico  in  an  old 
Spanish  family,  where  it  had  been  an  heirlooui,  and 
papa  paid  an  immense  sum  for  it.  Poor  papa!  He 
little  thought  he  was  purchasing  a  means  for  his 
daughter  to  make  her  bread.  At  first,  my  eyes  took 
in  a  sea  of  faces  and  heads  that  made  my  own  head 
swim.  But  Von  La  Hache  struck  a  bold  chord  to 
cover  my  confusion,  and  Olivera  kindly  whispering 
'  coura<T:e,  allons/  drew  his  bow  across  the  violin  in 
the  first  notes  of  our  duo,  which  it  had  been  con- 
sidered best  for  me  to  make  my  essay  in  public 
with.  At  the  sound  of  the  violin  a  wonderful  sense 
of  power  stole  over  me,  and  settling  my  Stradu- 
arius,  I  drew  my  bow  with  as  much  firmness  of 
touch  and  clearness  of  tone  as  I  ever  did  in  my  life. 
I  forgot  the  faces,  and  only  listened  to  the  witching 
notes  from  Olivera's  instrument  as  it  mounted,  like 
a  bird,  higher  and  higher,  I  following  in  a  vain 
emulation,  until  at  last  we  both  burst  out  into  a 
gush  of  music  that  carried  us  both  away.  I  believe 
we  both  forgot  the  audience.  I  am  sure  I  did, 
until  I  was  recalled  to  consciousness  by  the  storm 
of  applause.  It  was  very  exciting,  the  waving  of 
handkerchiefs,  and  the  air  seemed  to  rain  flowers, 
as  bouquets  fell  all  over  the  stage  around  us. 

"After  we  had  retired,  during  the  interval,  A"on 
La  Hache  seized  my  hands  in  ecstacy.  ^Dear 
Madame,  your  fortune  is  made.  You  play  like  an 
aiigel.' 


220  PANOLA. 

"  "Well !  You  know  Francid's  angels  are  playing 
on  violins  in  those  famous  pictures  of  his.  And  I 
have  seen  a  St.  Cecelia  also  playing  on  the  violin. 
So  Von  La  Hache's  compliment  was  not  so  far  out 
of  the  way.  The  issue  of  it  all,  dear  Mark,  is  that 
your  little  Panola  is  become  suddenly  famous.  The 
impressario  of  the  opera  house  has  called  upon  me 
this  morning,  with  proposals  for  a  series  of  concerts, 
and  others  have  been  here,  editors  and  all  sorts  of 
people,  urging  different  kinds  of  engagements  and 
plans  upon  me  until  ray  head  aches.  But  I  think 
I  shall  accept  an  offer  from  an  agent  who  wishes 
me  to  give  concerts  in  all  the  principal  cities,  and 
perhaps  I  shall  go  to  Europe.  I  have  secured  a 
good  respectable  maid,  over  middle  age,  to  accom- 
pany me.     Love  to  grandpapa  Canonge  and  to  Liz- 

bette.  Your  affectionate 

"  Pais^ola. 

"  P.  S. — I  have  made  one  thousand  dollars  al^ 
ready  by  my  concerts.  You  see  I  shall  be  quite 
rich  if  I  go  on.  Dear  Mark,  you  must  let  me  help 
grandpapa  Canonge.  I  know  how  proud  you  are 
about  money,  but  I  have  a  right  to  help  the  dear 
old  man,  who  is  like  my  father.  I  shall  deposit 
money  from  time  to  time,  subject  to  your  order,  for 
his  use.  You  can  draw  it  without  letting  him 
know.     Won't  you  do  this  for  mef — for  Fanolaf 

Mark  read  this  letter  with  mingled  feelings.     He 


A     SUCCESSFUL     DEBUTANTE.      221 

was  proud  of  Panola's  great  success,  and  yet  he 
disliked  the  publicity  of  it  all.      He  disliked  to 
take  money  from  her,  and  yet  he  saw  how  it  would 
hurt  her  if  he  refused  it.     They  were  very  poor 
now.     The  old  docteur  was  getting  too  old  and  too 
feeble  to  continue  his  practice.     Lizbette  was  old 
and  rheumatic,  and  Mark  was  helpless.     His  three 
hundred  per  annum,  from  his  uncle  Jacob's  will, 
was  really  all  that  they  had  to  depend  upon  to  keep 
the  little  household  from  destitution.     His  grand- 
father talked  of  selling  his  books,  but  Mark  knew 
that  that  would  break  the  old   man's  heart;    and 
then  he  would  get  little  or  nothing  for  them  in  the 
depressed  condition  of  the  country.     Mark  thought 
over  every  thing.     Victor  and    Katika  had    both 
written,  proffering  aid  to  their  grandfather  and  to 
Mark,  but  both  had  rejected  it  with  scorn.     They 
had  disclaimed  all  further  intercourse  with  Victor 
and  Xatika,  who  had  gone  away  together  and  had 
been  privately  married  as  soon  as  Panola  had  pro- 
cured the  divorce. 

Mark  snatched  a  piece  of  paper,  and  wrote  in 
reply  to  Panola,  congratulating  her  upon  her  suc- 
cess as  a  musicienne,  and  assuring  her  of  the  hearty 
sympathy  of  his  grandflither  and  himself  in  all  her 
undertakings.  In  regard  to  the  money,  he  said, 
"  Yes,  Panola,  I  ^vill  take  from  you  so  much  as  is 
needful  for  the  comfort  of  my  grandfather,  who 
loves  you  so  much ;    and  even  what  I  absolutely 


222  PANOLA. 

need  I  will  take  from  yov — Mliat  I  would  not  from 
any  other  living  being.  But  1  have  enough  for  my 
small  wants,  you  know,  from  my  uncle  Jacob's  will. 
AVrite  to  us  daily,  Panola.  AVe  miss  you  every 
hour,  and  talk  of  you,  and  think  of  you  always. 
*'  Your  friend  and  relative, 

*'Maek  Bollixg." 

Poor  IMark  wrote  and  rewrote  and  erased  his 
letter  in  order  to  get  it  cool  enough,  and  yet  to  give 
some  expression  to  gratitude  natural  under  the  cir- 
cumstances and  proper  to  be  expressed.  So  Panola 
started  off  on  her  tour  of  concert-giving,  and  she 
wrote  a  journal,  which  she  sent  back  continually  to 
the  little  household,  which  she  called  now  ^'  home.'^ 
It  was  the  only  excitement  they  had  in  the  quiet 
monotony  of  the  sad  country ;  and  Mark  looked 
with  impatient  eagerness  for  the  daily  coming  of  the 
long  letters  which  never  failed,  and  which  amused 
grandfather  Canonge  excessively.  Panola's  obser- 
vations were  so  original  and  so  fresh.  The  old 
man  would  laug-h  till  tears  were  in  his  eves,  over 
her  descriptions  of  scenes  and  the  people  she  met. 


SEYENTEEXTH    CENTURY    POISON.     223 
CHAPTER    XXV. 

A     SEYENTEENTII     CENTURY     POISON. 

PAXOLA'S  letters  and  a  visit  from  an  occasional 
tourist,  attracted  by  Docteur  Canonge's  scien- 
tific fame,  were  the  chief  events  in  life  to  Mark 
now,  when  suddenly  one  morning  Professor  Romer 
presented  himself  at  the  gate.  He  was  travel- 
w^orn  and  weary,  and  did  not  look  at  all  like  a 
respectable  individual,  his  habiliments  being  con- 
siderably the  worse  for  wear.  But  he  had  bought 
himself  a  shiny  tall  beaver  hat,  and  a  new  cloth 
overcoat,  which  he  displayed  to  Mark  with  all  the 
joy  of  a  child. 

I^Iark  fairly  embraced  Eomer,  and  Docteur  Can- 
onge  rapturously  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 
PvcTmer  was  at  home  in  a  few  seconds,  and  then, 
after  resting  a  day,  he  proceeded  to  enjoy  himself 
in  his  own'fashion.  He  brought  out  his  blotting 
books  and  tin  boxes,  and  took  possession  of  part  of 
the  library.  He  was  gratified  at  the  opportunity  to 
study  the  unknown  flora  of  this  country.  Cher- 
okee Joe  had  made  his  appearance  again,  and  had 
taken  up  his  quarters  at  Docteur  Canonge's.  He 
wouldn't  go  to  Madame  Boiling's  house,  but  he 
might  be  seen  at  any  hour  of  the  day  lounging 
about  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  or  bringing  a 
brace  of  teal  or  snipe  from  ^^the  ponds." 


224  PANOLA. 

Lizbette  was  alwavs  Avillino^  to  scive  Joe  what  she 
called  ''  liis  wiftles/^  because  he  kei:)t  the  larder  sup- 
plied with  game.  Joe  slept  in  the  hay-loft  over 
the  stable  at  night;  but  he  could  be  found  in  the 
evenings  sitting  bolt  upright  at  the  kitchen  fire, 
gazing  into  the  blaze,  and  breaking  his  obstinate 
silence  with  the  customary  ^'  ughs,"  in  reply  to 
Lizbette,  who  was  glad  to  have  anybody  to  talk  to, 
even  if  it  was  only  an  Indian. 

Professor  Romer  made  friends  with  Joe,  who 
showed  him  where  all  the  rarest  and  straufrest 
plants  grew.  One  morning  the  professor  came  into 
Mark's  study  with  his  box  of  specimens  ^yell  filled, 
and  Joe  followed  after  him,  bearing  a  game-bag 
stuffed  with  the  similar  spoils  of  innocent  science. 
Joe  stood  and  watched  with  great  curiosity,  while 
the  professor  seated  himself  and  began  to  arrange 
and  label  his  specimens  for  drying.  It  amused 
Mark  too,  and  he  aided  the  professor  in  laying  the 
plants  straight  between  the  sheets  of  blotting  paper 
which  the  professor  carried  about  for  this  pur2)ose. 
The  professor  talked  all  the  time  in  broken  English. 
He  was  a  very  communicative,  genial  man. 

Joe  had  deposited  his  bag  on  the  table,  and  stood 
now  by  it,  immovably  upright,  with  his  hand  upon 
his  gun ;  his  bright,  black  eyes  glancing  curiously 
at  ]\Iark  and  the  professor  as  they  worked  and 
talked  about  the  plants  before  them. 

^'  This  mornin',"  said  the  professor,  "  I  have  had 


SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY    POISON       22-3 

great  success.  I  saw  growing  outside  in  the  road, 
near  von  leetle  liouse  niit  verandah,  quite  ruinous 
now,  a  plant  what  I  have  never  yet  see  in  dis  con- 
tree.  It  grow  plentiful  in  Europe,  and  I  know  it 
dere  well.  I  was  sure  it  could  not  be  natif  here. 
It  stray  ver  like  out  of  die  garten  of  die  house,  or 
out  of  some  cultivated  place.  It  was  die  plant  dat 
I  do  know.  I  examine  him  well.  He  was  quite 
leetle.  But  I  know  die  leaf.  So  I  tell  Joe  dat  I 
like  to  go  inside  in  dat  leetle  house  place  for  to  see 
if  zere  was  ever  a  garten.  Joe  say  '  ugh/  and  we 
clime  over  die  fence.  Dere  was  no  gate  or  it  was 
nail  up,  and  we  get  in  dis  leetle  house  garten.  It 
was  so  vild.  Every  ting  was  vild.  It  have  been 
long  neglectit,  but  dere  vas,  oh,  great  variety  of 
thos'  interestin'  plants  dere  dat  I  tink  I  ever  see  in 
one  place  togedder.  Der  was  many  natif  j^lants, 
very  interestin',  and  also  dere  was  oders  not  natif. 
It  was  mos  remarkable,  die  number  of  plants  medic- 
inal dere.  I  gader  a  great  many.  Some  what  you 
call  die  plants  of  i:)oison.  But  so  all  is  medicine. 
Medicine  is  poison,  bad  use;  and  poison  is  medi- 
cine, good  use.  I  find  dis  leetle  j^lant  plenty  in 
dere.  Some  of  him  was  bloom  in',  here  is  he.'' 
And  Professor  Homer  held  up  a  si)ray  of  pea  blos- 
soms Mark  started.  He  recos^nizcd  the  flowers. 
They  were  of  the  same  kind  as  those  that  Madame 
Boiling   had  laid  upon  Chicora's  breast.     Joe  saw 

this  hastv  movement.     His  eye  twinkled  as  he  met 
II 


226  PANOLA. 

INIark's,  but  he  said  nothing.  He  only  stared 
harder  at  the  professor,  who  was  holding  the  little 
spray  aloft,  as  he  continued  talking  on  rapidly. 

"This  pretty  leetle  papilionaceous  flower  is  a 
very  dangerous  plant.  It  is  an  astragalus.  It  is 
the  lathyrus  sativus.  In  die  seventeenth  century  it 
work  much  mischief.  Die  poebel  eat  it  in  dere 
bread,  or  in  oder  w^ays.  It  have  no  bad  taste,  only 
sweet  an'  ver'  2)leasant.  But  w-hen  it  is  eat  good 
deal  it  have  ver'  bad  effects.  A  great  rigidity  of 
die  limbs  will  ensue,  causing  loss  of  all  die  muscular 
power  bcyon'  die  reach  of  cure.  Dere  is  no  pre- 
monitory pain ;  die  patient  experience  only  ver' 
slight  diminution  of  strength,  when  all  of  sudden 
he  fine  his  limbs  all  rigid  an'  movement  is  impos- 
sible. You  will  feed  pigeons  on  die  seeds,  and  dey 
W'ill  walk  no  more.  I  have  try  on  die  pigeons 
myself.  George,  Duke  of  Wirtemberg,  in  1671, 
publish  an  edict  forbidding  die  planting  of  dis  pea, 
an'  Leopold,  his  successor,  j^ublish  two  edicts,  in 
1705  and  1714,  against  dis  leetle  plant,  an'  now  I 
finds  him  in  America.     Is  it  not  ver'^  interedia^  .^" 

The  professor  was  so  occupied  in  pasting  down 
his  "interestin"'  specimen  of  "dis  leetle  pea,"  that  he 
did  not  observe  Mark's  growing  pallor,  or  the  ex- 
pression of  intense  horror  that  overspread  his  sensi- 
tive countenance.  He  shuddered  as  he  looked  at 
the  plant  which  the  unconscious  professor  was 
quietly  spreading  out  and  arranging  to  suit  his 
fastidious  taste. 


SEVENTEENTH     CENTURY    POISON.     227 

"^ly  God!''  exclaimed  horror-stricken  jVfark. 
Clierokcc  Joe  leaned  over,  and  looked  at  the  plant, 
neatly  stretched  ont,  and  stuck  in  its  place  by  bits 
of  paper  glued  with  mucilage,  lying  before  the 
professor. 

"You  tink  dat  so  dreadful?"  continued  the  pro- 
fessor. "  Dcre  was  plenty  of  plants  in  dat  leetle 
garten  worser  as  dat.  Dere  was  many  ver'  wicked 
plants   dere.     I    haf   got   deni   all.     I   will    show 

you." 

[Mark  recovered  himself.  He  dared  not  say 
more.  He  must  take  time  to  thinlv  before  he  acted. 
God  !  it  was  aicjid!  aicjal !  The  drops  stood  upon 
his  brow. 

Joe  drew  back,  after  he  had  taken  a  careful  look 
at  the  plant,  with  a  deep  "  ngh."  Then  suddenly 
thrusting  his  red  hand  before  the  professor's  eyes, 
almost  knocking  off  the  savant's  spectacles,  he  said, 
"  What  that  ?  " 

They  were  the  identical  peas  he  had  shown  to 
Victor  in  years  previous. 

The  professor  took  them  out  of  Joe's  hand  and 
examined  them. 

"  Why,  dose  are  the  very  peas,"  he  said.  "  That 
is  the  fruit  of  the  lathyrxis  satiuus.  What  are  you 
to  do  wid  dem  ?     Dey  must  not  be  eat." 

"Take  to  Satana,"  said  Joe,  as  he  had  said  before 
to  Victor.  And  Joe  gathered  the  peas  up  out  of 
the  professor's  hand,  and  replaced  them  in  his  skin 
pouch. 


228  PANOLA. 

"Is  there  no  antidote  for  this  plant  known?" 
asked  Mark  at  lengtli,  when  he  couKl  command  his 
voice. 

'^Xone/'  replied  Komer,  laconically.  "I  have 
tried  every  zing  on  die  pigeons.  Dey  never  got  any 
better.'^ 


<  m  *  •  * 


CHAPTER    XXyi. 

TRAGIC     RETEIBUTIOX. 

MARK  was  greatly  troubled  at  the  revelation 
made  so  unconsciously  to  him  by  Professor 
Romer.  It  was  impossible  to  doubt  this  evidence 
of  the  wickedness  of  the  woman  who  had  been  his 
father's  wife,  and  now  that  the  thread  of  disentanofle- 
ment  had  been  given  into  his  hands  he  saw  many 
circumstances  in  a  new  aspect  to  confirm  its  truth. 
He  remembered  the  remarks  made  at  the  time  of 
his  father's  death;  of  Major  Flanoy's  sudden  death; 
of  Chicora's  long  illness,  with  its  strange,  remittent 
character;  his  own  illness  under  his  stepmother's 
care;  and  Mark  groaned  and  shuddered  at  the  fear- 
ful atmosphere  of  crime  which  surrounded  that 
woman,  and  in  which  he,  with  so  many  others,  had 
been  unconsciously  living.  Gazing  at  the  spray  of 
pea-blossoms,  he  wondered  at  the  blindness  of  him- 
self and  of  every  one  else.     They  might  have  read 


TRAGIC     RETRIBUTION.  220 

about  these  plants  in  a  Imndrecl  books  in  his  grand- 
father's library — materia  medicas,  that  they  had  in 
their  hands  every  day.  lie  got  down  several ;  yes, 
there  it  was,  the  description  of  this  lathyrus  scdlvus. 
"Whv,  any  child  would  have  known  it. 

He  rano;  the  bell  and  told  Lizbette  to  send 
Cherokee  Joe  to  him.  Lizbette  said  "Joe  had  left 
at  daybreak,  and  had  said  he  was  going  to  the 
Kation  and  would  not  be  back  soon  again." 

Mark  was  driven  back  to  communings  with  his 
own  unquiet  soul.  AVhat  was  he  to  do?  Expose 
this  woman  ?  or  what  ?  She  was  his  father's  widow ; 
his  father  whom  she  had  very  probably  murdered  ! 
She  was  h  female  Thug ;  she  was  a  malignant  and 
poison-breathing  creature,  who  struck  in  the  dark 
at  the  very  highest  and  noblest.  Yet  she  was  Pa- 
nola's aunt  by  the  half-blood.  Panola  !  how  glad 
he  w^as  that  Panola  'svas  away  from  under  that  per- 
nicious influence  which  would  have  not  hesitated 
to  attack  even  her  sweet,  pure  life.  What  teas  he 
to  do  ? 

Mark  asked  himself  the  question  every  minute. 
Would  it  be  best  to  tell  his  grandfather  or  not  ? 
Should  he  see  the  wretched  woman  privately  and 
tell  her  how  he  had  discovered  her  crimes  ?  If  he 
did,  and  she  were  to  go  away,  would  it  not  be  to 
carry  death  and  evil  wherever  she  did  go  ?  ]Mark 
was  of  a  pitiful  nature,  but  he  recognized  the 
absolute  necessity  of  human  beings  destroying  all 


230  PANOLA. 

poisonous  serpents  and  serpent-like  creatures.  Man 
is  obliged  to  kill  them,  else  they  exist  only  to  do 
evil. 

In  regard  to  his  own  condition  IMark  had  made 
inquiries,  not  only  from  Professor  Kbmer,  but  in  all 
the  books  he  could  find  that  touched  on  the  subject; 
there  was  no  known  cure  for  the  effects  produced  by 
the  poisonous  pea.  He  had  probably  taken  very 
little,  not  enough  to  produce  the  rigidity  of  the 
muscles,  which  was  the  full  effect  of  the  plant.  He 
had  probably  only  received  a  dose  or  so  as  an  experi- 
ment and  test  of  the  power  of  the  plant.  Still,  it 
made  him  more  hopeless  than  ever  of  his  regaining 
the  use  of  his  limbs.  Poor  Chicora !  oh,  it  was 
inexpressibly  horrible  to  think  of! 

Professor  Romer  departed  on  the  following  day, 
with  his  trunk  filled  with  specimens,  a  very  happy 
man,  and  Mark  sat  brooding  in  his  chair,  most 
miserable.  He  had  been  sitting  for  hours  lost  in 
thought,  when  he  saw  a  man  gallop  swiftly  up  to 
the  door  in  a  very  excited  manner,  who  called  loudly 
for  Docteur  Canonge.  His  grandfather  went  out, 
exchanged  a  few^  words  with  the  man,  then  with  a 
gesture  full  of  horror  the  old  docteur  put  his  hat  on 
his  head,  mounted  the  man's  horse,  and  rode  away 
rapidly,  leaving  the  man  to  follow  on  foot  or  as  he 
could.  The  docteur's  horse  was  grazing  in  a  pasture 
some  little  distance  off  from  the  house.  The  man 
remained  talking  violently  to  Lizbette,  who  listened; 


TRAGIC     RETRIBUTION.  231 

sliowing  by  her  pantomime  that  she  was  greatly 
agitated ;  but  at  hi.it  the  man  went  away,  and  Liz- 
bctte  came  into  Mark  with  a  face  full  of  terror  and 
excitement. 

"  Oh  !  master  Mark,  there's  the  dreadful  lest  thing 
has  happened !  Poor  Madame  Boiling !  she  was 
well  and  up  at  dinner-time,  at  two  o'clock  this  day, 
and  now  she  is  lying  dead  on  her  bed  with  her  neck 
broke,  and  nobody  knows  anything  about  it !  She 
was  walking  on  the  verandah  when  the  servants  saw 
her  last.  They  were  all  in  the  kitchen  and  the  back 
part  of  the  house,  and  at  sun-down,  when  the  maid 
went  to  her  mistress'  room  to  fix  the  bed,  there  was 
Madame  Boiling  lying  dead,  her  head  hanging  over 
the  side  of  the  bed,  as  if  somebody  had  throwed 
her  on  it.  There  wasn't  no  sign  of  scuffling  on  the 
bed  or  in  the  room.  She  was  killed  on  the  gallery 
and  then  brou^^ht  in  and  fluno;  on  the  bed.  There 
was  a  tiny  stream  of  drops  of  blood  all  the  way  from 
the  banisters  of  the  gallery  to  her  room.  Her  head 
was  flung  back  as  if  some  one  had  just  forced  it 
back  with  his  hand  until  it  snapped.  There  ain't 
no  sign  of  a  weapon,  and  no  bruises  or  marks  about 
her,  and  there  ain't  no  tracks  of  a  man  neither,  but 
then  it  is  grass  lawn  all  around  the  verandah,  and 
that  wouldn't  show  no  footprints,  nohow.  O 
Lord  !  what  a  country  to  live  in  !  with  wars  and 
fightings  and  murders  and  starvation  on  all  sides 
of  us!'' 


232  PAXOLA. 

This  was  all  Lizbctte  kuew.  JNIark  had  to  wait 
until  his  grandfather  returned  for  further  intelli- 
gence. The  old  docteur  was  very  much  excited. 
He  confirmed  Lizbette's  account.  This  murder  had 
beeu  done  in  open  daylight,  and  in  a  house  full  of 
servants,  and  yet  no  cry  for  aid  had  escaped  the 
victim.  It  was  most  mysterious.  Mrs.  Smith  and 
some  of  the  neighbors  were  there  now.  Everything 
had  been  done,  but  ]Madame  Boiling  was  dead. 

!Mark  now  told  his  grandfather  about  tlie  lathyrus 
satlvus,  and  all  he  suspected.  The  old  man  was 
overcome  with  surprise  and  horror ;  suspicion  flashed 
across  his  mind. 

"  ]]liere  was  Cherokee  Joe  f  Xo  one  had  seen  him 
for  two  days  past.  He  was  gone  to  the  Xation/' 
everybody  said. 

Madame  Boiling  was  buried ;  a  marble  slab  was 
put  over  her  grave,  which  nearly  covered  it,  but 
^lark,  driving  past  there  one  day,  long  afterward, 
saw  that  the  marble  slab  was  nearly  concealed  from 
view  by  the  twining,  twisting,  climbing  vines  of  the 
poison-pea.  TI7io  had  planted  them  so  thickly  upon 
that  grave  ?  It  was  matted  with  the  plant.  Mark 
knew  but  two  persons  who  were  likely  to  have  done 
this  :  old  Nana  for  love,  Cherokee  Joe  for  hatred. 

Joe  did  not  return  from  the  Nation.  "  He  had 
gone  out  on  the  Western  prairies,^'  some  of  his  people 
said ;  but  an  empty  purse  of  deerskin  ^'^as  picked 
up  near  the  gate  of  the  little  churchyard.     Lizbette 


TRAGIC     RETRIBUTION.  23 


o 


said  that  It  was  "  Joe's  purse,"  and  she  gave  it  to 
Indian  Molly,  who  received  it  in  stolid  silence. 

"Joe  been  here  lately ?^^  asked  Lizbette. 

"  Joe  gone  to  Xation,"  replied  Molly,  laconically. 

"What  you  think  about  Madame  Boiling's 
death  ?  '^  asked  Lizbette,  curiously. 

"Ah-skeen-er,"  laconically  replied  Molly. 

"  Where  are  goin',  Molly  ? "  asked  Lizbette. 
"  I  see  you've  got  your  pusscoos  strapped  on  your 
back,  and  all  those  baskets.  Those  are  very  pretty 
baskets.     What  will  you  take  for  that  fanner  ?  " 

Lizbette  was  always  ready  to  make  a  bargain. 
The  "fanner,"  a  large,  flat  basket,  made  of  very 
finely  split-cane,  woven  double,  was  indeed  a  beauti- 
ful work  of  Indian  art,  being  extremely  fine  in  the 
plaiting,  and  very  tastefully  ornamented  with  colored 
borders  of  red  and  black  dyed  splits  of  the  reed. 
Molly  unstrapped  the  baskets  and  sat  herself  down 
on  the  ground,  ready  for  a  trade.  Her  "  pusscoos  " 
blinked  its  bright-black  eyes  when  Lizbette  chucked 
it  under  the  chin. 

"That  pusscoos  is  the  very  image  of  Joe,"  said 
Lizbette  "  Wait,  I'll  give  you  a  flannel  gown  for 
it :  bran  new  red  flannel,  and  a  piece  of  sugar,  too. 
AVhat  will  you  take  for  the  fanner,  IMolly?" 

Molly  held  up  her  hand  with  the  thumb  bent 
into  the  palm. 

"  Four  bits,"  she  said. 

"  Four  bits  !     That's  too  much." 


234  PANOLA. 

"  Fanner  vely  fine/'  said  ]\Iolly ;  "  plenty  work 
to  make  him/' 

"But  that's  too  much/'  argued  LIzbette ;  "I'll 
give  you  three  bits  and  a  new  handkerchief,  red 
and  blue — see !  " 

Molly  shook  her  head,  smiling  :  "  Xo." 

"  Well,  then,  three  bits  and  a  new  tin-cup." 

Molly  laughed,  and  repeated  her  head-shaking 
of  refusal:  "Xo." 

"Well,  then,  three  bits  and  the  tin-cup  and  a 
bottle  of  whiskey,"  said  Lizbette. 

Molly  laughed,  with  her  mouth  wider  open 
than  ever,  showing  all  her  white  teeth,  but  she 
nodded  her  head  in  acquiescence. 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  said  Lizbette.  "  Indians 
does  love  whiskey — well,  I  like  a  little  myself 
sometimes,  when  I  have  a  misery  in  my  inwards. 
Molly,  wait  till  I  go  into  the  house  after  the 
things." 

Lizbette  turned  back  from  the  gate,  where  this 
colloquy  had  taken  place,  and  re-entered  the  house, 
whence  she  soon  emerged  bearino;  the  bottle  of 
whiskey,  the  tin-cup,  the  red  flannel  and  the  sugar 
for  the  "  pusscoos."  Molly  untied  the  fanner,  and 
then  selecting  one  of  her  very  prettiest  baskets,  fitted 
for  holding  eggs,  she  laid  it  inside  the  fanner  and 
handed  both  to  Lizbette.  "  Pusscoos  give  you  this," 
she  said. 

Lizbette  thanked  her  heartily,  and  untying  her 


PANOLA    IN    PARIS.  235 

own  necklace  of  yellow  beads,  she  addcJ  that  to 
the  parcel  for  Molly.  Lizbctte  was  very  generous, 
though  she  liked  to  trade  and  beat  down  prices 
of  things. 

"  Tankee,  Lizbctte,"  said  Molly.  "  Bye,  Liz- 
bctte, I'm  goin'  to  Nation.'^ 

"Good-bye,  iMolly;  good-bye,  pusscoos." 

"  That  wa.s  a  good  bargain,"  remarked  Lizbette 
to  herself;  "them  baskets  is  worth  at  least  two 
dollars,  specially  the  fanner.  That  little  pusscoos' 
eyes  are  jist  like  a  coon's,  they  is  so  bright  and 
so  fierce-lookin' !" 

^^Ah-skeen-erj  indeed ;  it's  always  ah-skcen-er 
with  Injins!  and  no  satisfaction  with  them.  Ah~ 
sheen-er!  I  believe  it  is  ' ah- Joe'  and  ^ ali-Cherohee' 
myself!  Injins  is  so  deceitful!  That  fanner  is  a 
real  beauty,  sure  ! " 


•  ^  ♦  » »■■ 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

PANOLA     IN     PARIS. 

PAXOLA  had  made  a  very  successful  tour 
through  the  United  States;  so  much  so  that 
her  agent  considered  it  advisable  that  she  should  go 
to  Europe  and  try  for  the  laurels  that  are  freely  be- 
stowed there  upon  all  real  original  talent.   Panola  had 


236  PANOLA. 

signed  the  articles  of  agreement  before  she  learned 
of  the  death  of  Madame  Boiling,  though,  being  the 
next  of  kin,  she  now  inherited  all  that  ill-fated 
woman's  property.  She  wrote  to  Mark,  asking  him 
to  take  charge  of  her  affairs  in  Louisiana,  as  she  did 
not  feel  justified  in  breaking  her  engagement  on  an 
instant's  notice. 

The  truth  was  that  Panola  icas  pleased  and  inter- 
ested in  the  life  she  was  leading.  She  cared  more 
for  the  music  of  it  than  the  fame;  and  she  looked 
forward  eagerly  to  the  chance  of  progress  and  im- 
provement in  her  art,  which  such  a  tour  as  that 
she  had  undertaken  promised  to  her.  She  would 
hear  all  the  great  musicians  of  the  world,  and  she 
would  learn  so  much.  The  prospect  was  very 
tempting  to  her,  and  fame  is  pleasant,  very  pleasant. 
She  enjoyed  being  the  favorite  of  the  hour.  She 
was  entirely  en  rapport  with  her  public — had  a  per- 
fect entente  cordiale  towards  it  en  masse — that  is, 
when  it  was  seated  in  serried  rows  on  the  benches 
before  her.  Then  she  delighted  in  the  power  she 
had  of  bringing  smiles  or  tears  to  human  eyes  and 
lips.  Individually,  people  did  not  interest  Panola. 
They  fatigued  her  and  occupied  the  time  she  pre- 
ferred to  give  to  her  music — that  is,  unless  they 
were  real  musicians,  and  could  teach  her  something; 
then  Panola  would  listen  to  them  with  eas-er  eves 
and  parted  lips.  She  had  said  once  to  Victor : 
"  Music  is  my  life,  I  think/'  and  it  seemed  to  be 


PANOLA     IN     PARIS.  237 

really  true.  So,  in  the  midst  of  her  brilliant  career 
as  an  artiste,  Panola  lived  the  simplest  and  quietest 
life  possible.  She  saw  no  one,  except  on  business  or 
music.  Her  faithful  maid  was  always  with  her, 
accompanying  her  to  and  fro  wherever  she  went. 

Of  course  Panola  was  often  subjected  to  the  atten- 
tions which  every  attractive  "  diva  ''  receives.  She 
was  wondrously  beautiful,  and  beauty  attracts  as 
honey  does  flies  and  wasps  ;  but  it  ^yas  almost  im- 
possible to  approach  Panola.  Gifts  she  positively 
rejected  even  from  sovereigns,  except  a  flower,  and 
those  she  preferred  to  receive  in  public.  Letters 
and  notes  were  opened  by  her  secretary,  except  her 
private  letters  from  "  home."  The  secretary  read 
them  aloud  to  her  as  she  sat  at  her  breakfast,  and 
jotted  down  the  notes  of  reply  on  the  outside  ;  so 
that  lovers'  billet  doux  fared  badly  under  these 
prosaic  arrangements.  If  a  billet  was  extremely 
oritxinal  and  funnv,  Panola  would  sometimes  send  it 
to  grandpapa  Canonge  and  Mark  to  read  and  laugh 
over. 

Panola  awoke  enthusiasm  wherever  she  went. 
The  wildest  and  most  extravagant  tales  were  circu- 
lated about  her.  She  was  an  "  Indian  Princess;'' 
she  was  the  heroine  of  the  most  romantic  histories; 
there  certainly  was  some  mystery  about  this  wonder- 
fully beautiful  Louisianaise,  who  played  better  on 
the  violin  than  Gottschalk  did  on  the  piano.  People 
took  out  their  atlasses  and  looked  to  see  in  what 


238  PANOLA. 

corner  of  the  earth  "  Louisiana'^  was  located  ;  and 
would  spread  their  fingers  ov^er  that  portion  of  the 
United  States.  "Just  to  think  of  all  this  beinoj 
inhabited  by  civilized  people !  It  is  really  wonder- 
ful !  Such  a  new  country,  too ! "  and  then  they 
patronized  Panola  more  than  ever. 

She  did  not  know  that  they  were  patronizing  her! 
She  thought  she  was  doing  them  a  great  favor 
in  playing  for  them.  Her  happiest  hours  w'ere 
when  she  stood,  violin  in  hand,  before  the  public. 
There  was  no  stay  in  the  furore  that  she  inspired, 
and  her  agent  gathered  in  gold  with  both  hands. 
He  gave  her  a  fair  portion  of  it,  and  she  sent  it  all 
home  to  "grandpapa  and  ]\Iark."  Her  pure,  loving 
heart  was  anchored  there,  in  that  nook  of  the 
Louisiana  prairie  country. 

From  Paris,  where  she  now  was,  she  wrote  thus 
to  Mark : 

"  I  have  been  here  a  month — well  received.  I 
think  the  Parisians  are  kinder  to  me  because  I  come 
from  a  French  colony,  and  they  think  I  am  a 
Creole.  They  feel  a  sort  of  esprit  de  famille  in  me. 
The  papers  are  very  complimentary  ;  but  better 
than  all  is  the  kindly  manner  in  which  the  great 
musicians  here  receive  me.  They  are  truly  good  to 
me.  At  ray  first  concert  I  recognized,  in  one  of  the 
side  loges,  Victor.  It  did  not  agitate  me  to  see  him 
there.     I  don't  believe  I  should  mind  meeting  him 


PANOLA     IN     PARIS.  239 

at  all.  I  only  disliked  Victor  during  the  brief 
period  that  I  was  his  nominal  wife.  I  suppose  you 
will  think  it  very  strange,  but  I  really  believe  I 
should  rather  like  being  on  friendly  terms  with  him; 
but  under  the  circumstances,  that,  I  suppose,  is  not 
permissible.  Xatika  might  not  like  it.  Victor  is 
looking  wretchedly— the  ghost  of  his  former  self— 
and  has  a  bad  cough ;  I  often  hear  it  as  he  attempts 
to  stifle  it.  Sometimes  he  has  to  go  out  into  the 
foyer  and  cough  ;  then  he  comes  back.  You  know 
he  is  devoted  to  music,  and  he  always  did  like 
mine.  Poor  Victor !  he  is  ill  I  I  wonder  where 
Natika  is?  but  probably  she  would  not  come  to 
hear  me  play  ! 

******* 
"I  have  heard  something  of  Victor.  He  is  here 
alone.  Natika  is  spending  the  winter  in  Egypt  for 
her  health,  they  say.  Victor  is  said  to  be  dying  of 
consumption — a  rapid  development  of  the  disease. 
Poor  fellow ! 

******* 
"To-night,  in  playing,  I  saw  poor  Victor  rise 
and  go  out  to  cough;  then  he  came  back.  He 
looked  so  feeble  and  so  sad.  I  don't  know  whether 
it  was  right  or  wrong  in  me,  but  my  heart  ached  for 
the  poor  suffering  fellow.  His  eyes  are  more  like 
yours  than  ever,  Mark ;  they  look  larger  and  deeper 
in  expression  than  they  used  to  do. 

"  I  was  called  back  three  times  after  every  piece, 


240  PAXOLA. 

and  at  the  last  encore  I  signed  to  have  my  violin 
handed  back  to  me.  It  was  brouMit.  AVhen  I  took 
it  again  in  ray  hands,  smiling,  the  house  rose.  You 
never  heard  such  a  noise  as  they  did  make ;  but  at 
the  first  scrape  of  the  bow  all  was  still.  I  played, 
for  the  first  time  in  Europe,  an  improvisation.  I 
played  it  for  Victor  T  played  some  things  he  used 
to  sing  for  us — some  things  mamma  liked — as 
tenderly  as  I  could ;  then  I  played  some  modula- 
tions, and  got  into  ' Dixie ^  and  the  ^Bonnie  Blue 
Flag;'  and  wound  up  with  an  allegro  on  the  corn 
song  of  the  negroes,  and  the  extravaganza  of  the 
'Arkansas  Traveller.'  Victor  knew  then  that  I  had 
recognized  him.  He  waved  his  hand  sadly,  and 
put  it  up  over  his  eyes — I  think  he  wept.  I  quitted 
the  stage,  and  the  curtain  dropped.  As  I  was  leaving 
the  dressinsf-room  to  return  to  mv  lodo^ino:s,  accom- 
2)anied,  as  usual,  by  my  good  Ellen,  a  note  was 
handed  me  from  Victor — here  it  is;  I  send  it  to  you 
to  read : 

"' Panola  : — I  think,  from  your  music  to-night, 
that  you  have  forgiven  me.  You  can  recall  the  past 
without  j)ain  or  anger.  I  know  that  means 
that  you  never  did  love  me  much.  If  you 
loved  me  you  would  not  have  forgiven  or  forgotten 
so  readilv.  So  that  emboldens  me — as  mortifvino; 
as  the  facts  may  be  to  any  man's  vanity — yet  it  em- 
boldens me  to  approach  you.     They  tell  me  I  am 


PANOLA     IN     PARIS.  241 

dying.  I  suppose  I  am.  I  suffer  enough,  God 
knows !  and  I  feel  so  utterly  forlorn  and  so  lonely. 
I  can't  tell  you  what  I  felt  in  hearing  the  sound 
ajrain  of  your  Straduarius,  and  of  the  intense  lono;- 
ino;  for  home  and  childhood's  friends  that  came  over 
me  when  I  saw  you.  I  have  heard  nothing  from 
Louisiana  for  so  long — grandpapa  and  Mark  have 
thrown  us  off,  you  know^ — Natika  and  me.  Some  old 
Roman,  I  don't  remember  who — Coriolanus,  I  think 
— said,  "  It  is  onlv  in  old  ao;e  that  one  feels  how 
bitter  it  is  to  be  an  exile  from  one's  country.''  Oh, 
Panola !  illness  and  pain  act  like  old  age  for  me ! 
I  can't  tell  you  how  I  long  and  yearn  for  home, 
and  for  the  old  familiar  faces.  It  would  be  a 
charity  in  you  to  receive  me  for  an  hour.  May  I 
come?  If  so,  send  a  note  to  Xumero  11,  Rue  St. 
Honore.  "^Victor.' 

"I  wrote  him  to  come  the  next  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock. 

:f:  :{£  :i:  :{:  H<  ;(:  :|e 

"  Punctually  at  eleven  o'clock  Victor  entered 
my  little  salon.  Ellen  was  sewing  in  the  adjoining 
apartment,  with  the  door  opened  between  us.  Vic- 
tor was  very  much  agitated — more  than  I  was.  He 
kissed  my  hand  in  silence  as  I  extended  it  to  him  ; 
then  he  began  to  cough.  I  pushed  an  easy-chair 
towards  him,  and  stirred  up  the  fire  to  make  it 
blaze.  Victor  threw  himself  in  the  chair. 
^  15 


242  PANOLA. 

^^  ^  You  see  me  a  poor  wreck,  Panola/  he  said. 
His  face  is  very  gaunt  and  emaciated.  His  eyes 
are  like  deep  caverns  in  his  face.  • 

'^  I  said,  '  Does  your  cough  hurt  'you  much, 
Victor?^ 

"  Mt  times,'  he  replied.  Then  we  both  sat  silent 
for  a  while.  I  did  not  feel  embarrassed,  but  I  felt 
so  sorry,  and  very  earnest.  There  was  no  place  for 
coquetry  or  trifling  between  us  two. 

"Victor  did  not  speak;  he  sat  looking  into  the 
fire.  I  let  him  alone.  I  took  up  some  embroidery 
I  was  doing — a  sofa-cushion  for  you,  Mark — and 
there  we  sat  as  composedly  as  we  used  to  do :  he 
lying  back  m  the  chair,  and  I  sewing.  I  got  up 
and  pushed  a  stool  under  his  feet.  ^  It  will  be  more 
comfortable,'  I  said. 

"  ^  Thanks.     AVhat  are  you  making,  Panola  ? ' 

"  ^A  sofa-cushion  for  Mark.' 

"  'It  is  very  pretty.'  Then  he  glanced  around  the 
room  and  spied  the  large  photographs  of  you  and 
grandpapa  that  I  carry  about,  and  call  my  Lares. 

" '  Those  are  good  likenesses,'  he  said.  *  AVhen  did 
you  hear  last  from  home  ? ' 

"  I  told  him.  Then  I  got  out  the  last  package 
of  letters  and  read  him  all  that  I  thought  would 
interest  him  from  them. 

"  He  asked  me  to  let  him  see  the  last  from  grand- 
papa. I  gave  it  to  him.  He  read  it  over  again, 
and  kissed  it,  as  he  folded  it  up  to  return  to  me. 


PANOLA    IN    PARIS.  243 

'^ '  The  dear,  good  old  man  !  ^  he  cried.  Then  we 
started  in  a  stream  of  talk.  He  had  so  many  ques- 
tions to  ask,  and  I  so  much  to  tell.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  of  poor  aunt  Boiling's  strange  death. 
I  wonder  what  mysterious  enemy  she  could  have 
had?  You  never  gave  me  a  clear  account  of  it  all, 
somehow. 

"  Victor  cheered  up  wonderfully,  and  at  times 
would  show  glimpses  of  his  old  self,  in  light  mock- 
ing speeches.  Indeed,  I  found  myself  laughing  and 
scolding  at  him,  just  as  we  used  to  do  before  all 
that  terrible  folly  came  between  us.  He  stretched 
himself  out  with  his  feet  to  the  fire,  and  seemed 
really  comfortable.  I  made  him  a  nice  milk  punch, 
with  real  country  cream  in  it,  and  gave  him  some 
lunch  before  he  left.  He  ate  with  appetite — he  said 
more  than  he  had  had  for  a  long  time.  I  had  a 
musical  engagement  after  that.  So  I  told  him  he 
must  go ;  I  had  work  to  do.     He  got  up  instantly. 

"  '  I  may  come  again,  Panola  ? ' 

" '  You  may  come  when  you  like,  Victor,  in 
reasonable  hours,'  I  said.  '  I  am  often  busy.  When 
I  can  see  you,  I  will ;  but  of  course  I  must  do  my 
work.     But  you  will  understand  that.' 

*^'0f  course,'  he  replied ;  ^it  is  very  good  of  you 
to  let  me  come  at  all.' 

"He  has  been  coming  nearly  every  day.  I 
see  him  whenever  I  can,  and  try  to  do  all  I  can 
for  him.     I   have   told   him   to  write  to  you  and 


244  PANOLA. 

to  griindpapa.     Answer  him  kindly,  dear  Mark — 
dearest  grandpapa :  the  poor  fellow  is  so  ill. 

"  Xatika  is  in  Egypt,  with  her  relatives.  Victor 
does  not  speak  of  her  much  to  me,  of  course  ;  though 
he  might  do  so  if  he  liked ;  it  wouldn't  hurt  me 
at  all." 

Victor  wrote : 

"Paris,  18—. 

"  DeaPw  Mark  : — Panola  encourages  me  to  write 
to  you,  and  to  dear  grandpapa.  She  has  doubtless 
told  you  the  condition  of  health  in  which  she  has 
found  me.  She  is  so  compassionate  and  good. 
There  is  no  use  in  referring  to  the  past;  that  is 
dead  and  gone.  Your  prophecy  was  true,  Mark, 
and  has  been  so  painfully  fulfilled  !  I  am  dying 
with  consumption ;  but  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it, 
]\Iark :  I  am  dying  alone,  except  for  the  attendance 
of  hirelings — services  that  money  will  always  com- 
mand, you  know.  It  is  a  sorrowful  fact  which 
forced  itself  upon  my  most  unwilling  mind :  but  I 
am  become  a  source  of  horror  and  disgust  to  my 
poor  wife.  I  suppose  she  can't  help  natural  idio- 
syncrasy, but  ]S'atika  hates  sickness,  and  calamity, 
and  physical  disease.  She  can't  help  it.  Even 
when  she  would  try  to  conceal  it  and  to  repress  the 
shrinkino:  from  me  after  mv  health  commenced  to 
fail,  I  saw  it  plainly — she  shuddered  at  my 
touch.     She  turned  pale  when  she  would  inhale  my 


PANOLA     IN     PARIS.  245 

breath.  It  seemed  poisonous  and  noxious  to  her. 
There  was  an  innate  repulsion  towards  ilhiess  and 
sick  people.  I  feei  sorry  for  her.  All  the  horrid 
paraphernalia  of  confirmed  chronic  invalidism,  the 
fevers  and  the  coughing,  and  the  weakness — all 
are  hateful  to  her.  She  could  not  hide  her  repug- 
nance from  me.  I  tried  to  incommode  her  as  little 
as  possible;  but,  finding  her  so  intensely  bored,  I 
persuaded  her  to  go  to  Egypt  for  the  winter.  She 
is  Eot  very  strong,  and  the  air  of  the  desert  is  said 
to  be  good  for  delicate  lungs.  She  was  very  glad  to 
go.  It  is  an  immense  relief  to  her.  I  promised  to 
go  to  the  south  of  France,  or  to  Madeira.  But  I 
have  not  gone.  I  have  such  a  longing  for  home. 
I  wish  I  might  come.  Panola  thinks  you  would 
let  me. 

"  Of  course  you  know  what  a  world-famous  diva 
Panola  is.  The  people  go  mad  over  her.  She 
deserves  it.  She  is,  if  anything,  more  beautiful 
than  ever,  and  she  improves  every  day  in  her  play- 
ing ;  she  studies  so  hard. 

"  Oh,  Mark  !  what  a  fool  I  was  !  But  I  dare  not 
speak  of  the  jmst,  '  when,  like  the  base  Judsean,  I 
threw  away  a  pearl  richer  than  all  my  tribe.'  By 
the  way,  does  that  mean  Judas  Iscariot,  or  Herod 
the  king,  when  he  killed  Mariamne? 

"Talking  of  killing  reminds  me  of  INfadame 
Boiling.  I  have  no  doubt  there  was  retributive 
justice  in  her  end,  though   Panola  don't  seem  to 


246  PANOLA. 

understand  about  it  exactly.  I  must  tell  you  that 
^  zose  Injuns ' — as  grandpapa  calls  them — the  Chero- 
kees,  Panola's  respectable  relatives,  have  not  for- 
gotten me.  Every  year  I  have  received  through  the 
post  a  peculiar  letter,  which,  when  opened,  contains 
nothing  but  a  very  correctly  drawn  rattlesnake 
coiled  to  spring  AYhoever  drew  it  has  caught  the 
reptilish  characteristics  admirably. 

^^  I  have  quite  a  little  package  of  these  epistles, 
which  I  have  carefully  filed  away,  but  which 
certainly  will  not  deter  me  from  returning  to 
America.  Indeed,  as  matters  are  now,  I  believe  I 
had  rather  make  a  finis  at  once,  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  an  Indian  arrow  or  tomahawk,  than 
to  shake  myself  to  pieces,  gradually,  with  coughing. 
Day  and  night,  I  have  no  rest.  I  wonder  if  grand- 
papa could  prescribe  something  to  alleviate  my 
wretchedness.  Panola  cooks  me  up  messes  that  seem 
to  help  me  a  little,  temporarily.  Do  write  soon 
to  me.  I  am  famished  for  news  from  you  and 
grandpapa.     Your  loving  and  miserable 

"  Victor." 

Victor  to  Mark,  later. 

"Paris,  IS—. 

"Dearest  Mark  : — Your  kind  letter,  containing 
the  few  precious  words  from  grandpapa,  reached  me 
only  a  few  minutes  ago.  Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks, 
that  you  will  receive  back  your  prodigal,  alas!  not 


PANOLA     IN     PARIS.  247 

like  tlic  younger  son  Odin,  in  grandpapa's  story — 
bringing  j)recious  gifts  in  his  hands — but  sick  and 
worn  and  weary  :  coming  home  only  to  die. 

"  Dear  Mark,  I  am  growing  weaker  day  by  day. 
Panola,  who  has  been  as  good  to  me  as  an  angel, 
says  she  will  cancel  her  engagements  here  to  accom- 
pany me  home.  She  insists  upon  it,  and  I — dear 
!Mark,  don't  despise  me  too  much — I  am  so  weak 
I  cannot  but  accept  this  sacrifice  from  the  woman  I 
have  wronged  so  much.  I  know  I  have  no  right 
to  do  it,  but  Panola  is  a  part  of  home — that  home 
I  yearn  for  so  much — and  it  is  such  a  consolation  to 
have  her  near  me.  I  suffer  a  good  deal,  and  she 
seems  to  know  how  to  help  me,  in  a  thousand  little 
ways  of  womanly  ministration. 

^'I  never  told  you,  Mark,  about  my  greatest 
sorrow  here  in  the  birth  and  death  of  my  little  child. 
It  was  a  terrible  grief  and  disappointment  to  me  at 
the  time,  but  I  think  of  it  now  with  calmness,  see- 
ing I  shall  so  soon  be  with  my  little  daughter  in 
the  better  life. 

"  Xatika  never  liked  children,  and  she  was  not 
pleased  when  our  little  girl  came.  She  was  very  ill 
at  the  time  of  its  birth.  She  had  over-exerted  her- 
self at  a  f^te  at  Compeigne,  where  she  had  been 
invited  by  the  empress,  and  where  she  insisted  upon 
going,  in  spite  of  my  earnest  entreaties  not  to.  She 
danced  a  great  dpal,  until  she  was  overcome  by 
fatigue  and  heat,  and  she  fainted  on  her  way  home 


248  PANOLA. 

from  the  imperial  ball.  Her  dress  was  made  too  tight 
and  too  elaborate,  iii  order  to  conceal  her  form.  The 
consequence  was,  the  premature  birth  of  my  child. 
It  lived  three  days.  It  was  very  beautiful;  and  my 
whole  soul  went  out  towards  it.  My  poor  little 
daughter!  It  was  baptized  Victorine.  Its  mother 
never  noticed  it  much.  I  carried  it  to  her  bedside 
when  it  was  a  day  old,  to  show  it  to  her,  but  she 
merely  glanced  at  it  and  said  it  was  '  a  nice  little 
thing,'  and  hoped  the  nurse  was  a  good  one. 

"I  assured  her  it  was  the  best  nurse  I  could  pro- 
cure in  all  Paris. 

"  She  smiled  lancruidlv,  'That's  crood.' 

''  I  said  timidly  to  her, '  AVouldn't  you  like  to  have 
the  babe  lie  by  you  a  while,  dear  ?' 

"  She  said,  '  Xo ;  she  was  not  used  to  babies.  She 
might  hurt  it.' 

"I  took  my  child  away.  Natika  never  loved  me, 
Mark.  I  know  that  now.  She  did  not  love  our 
child  either.  Oh,  my  God !  I  am  fearfully 
punished ! 

'^  My  little  child  became  ill,  and  after  watchlnsf 
by  it  for  two  days  and  nights,  I  saw  it  lie  dead 
before  me.  I  suppose  it  inherited  no  strength  to 
live  from  us  two  miserable  parents. 

"I  told  Xatlka  our  babe  was  dead.  I  thou2:ht  she 
might  like  to  look  at  it  once  more  before  the  grave 
closed  over  its  sweet  face.  But  she  said, '  Xo,  it  made 
her  shudder  to  think  of  anything  born  of  her  being 


victor's  death.  249 

dead.  It  seemed  as  if  part  of  herself  was  being 
buried/  She  turned  so  pale  and  seemed  to  suffer  so 
much  that  I  vowed  mentally  never  to  speak  of  the 
child  Qfrain  to  her ;  and  I  never  have.  I  have  ordered 
Yictoriue's  remains  to  be  sent  home  to  you,  dearest 
]\Iark.  I  had  it  deposited  in  a  vault  in  Pere  la 
Chaise,  with  that  intention.  You  will  bury  my 
child  among  her  ancestors  for  my  sake.  I  shall 
leave  here  next  week ;  pray  God  for  me  that  I 
may  live  to  see  your  face  once  more,  and  dear 
grandpapa's.  "  YoUR  YiCTOR." 


CHAPTEE    XXYIII. 


victor's    death. 


"New  York,  18—. 
it  npvEAPv  ]\IAEK  :— You  see  by  the  date  that  I 
J-^  have  arrived  here.  AVe  had  a  tedious  and 
tempestuous  Voyage,  which  increased  poor  Yictor's 
sufferings ;  but  he  bore  it  all  so  patiently.  He  had 
such  a  sweet  temper  naturally,  and  so  gay  and 
bright,  and  really  an  affectionate,  true  heart.  Poor 
Yictor  !  He  was  so  anxious  to  live  to  reach  '  home,' 
and  grandpapa  and  you.  But,  oh,  j\Iark  !  it  seemed 
cruel  that  he  should  die  just  the  day  before  we  got 
to  New  York!  It  was  so  hard!  I  weep  to  think 
of  it.     However  it  has  to  be  borne.     I  am  so  glad 


250  PANOLA. 

that  I  persisted  in  coming  with  him.  I  don't  know 
what  he  would  have  done  without  my  good  Ellen 
and  me.  He  was  so  weak.  But  he  would  laugh  and 
say  funny  things  to  the  very  last.  The  day  before 
he  died  he  was  sitting  up  on  the  deck  in  a  sheltered 
place.  I  was  sitting  by  him.  Ellen  was  below 
preparing  some  little  dainty  for  him,  when  a  lady 
came  up  and  said,  kindly: 

"^How  is  your  brother  to-day,  madame? 

'^ Victor  answered  himself,  ^that  he  was  more 
comfortable.'  Then,  when  she  had  walked  away, 
he  said : 

'^' What  relation  am  I  to  you,  Panola?' 

'^I  really  was  nonplussed  for  the  instant,  but,  re- 
covering myself,  I  said: 

*^'In  our  Indian  tongue  I  should  call  you  "my 
brother:'' 

"'Should  you?'  he  said.  'And  yet,  how  different 
it  might  have  ail  been,  Panola.' 

"'It  is  better  as  it  is,'  I  replied.  'I  have  always 
kuo^\'n  that.' 

" '  Yes,  you  love  your  Straduarius  better  than  you 
do  me,  and  ]\Iark  better  than  the  Straduarius,  and 
grandpapa  better  than  ]Mark.' 

"I  smiled.     Then  Victor  said,  very  seriously : 

"'Panola,  do  vou  know  that  I  could  have  been 

'  ml 

madly  in  love  with  one  other  woman  in  the  world 
besides  my  infatuation  for  Natika;  nay,  even  in 
spite  of  it,  had  the  fates  been  propitious?' 


victor's   death.  251 

" '  I     know,    Victor/    I    said ;    ^  it    was    with 


mamma.' 


*^^Yes.     1  could  have  loved  her.     I  expect  she 
died  cursing  me  too,  did  not  she?' 

"  I  could  not  reply.  I  expect  my  mother  did. 
"^AYell,  it  does  not  matter  much  now.  In  a  very 
little  while  all  will  be  clear  between  your  mother 
and  myself.  I  shall  have  an  explanation  with  her 
pretty  soon,  in  the  "  land  of  the  hereafter,"  as  you 
Indians  call  it.' 

"Victor  used  to  think  more  seriously  than   he 

talked  of  things,  Mark.     He  used  to  thiuk  a  great 

deal,  and  I  believe  he  often  prayed ;   but  it  was  his 

way  to  talk  lightly  and  gayly  about  serious  matters. 

-NVictor  had  some  lovely  traits  of  character. 

"He  died  quite  calmly,  whilst  sleeping.     I  will 
give  you  all  the  details  when  we  meet,  so  that  you 
can  write  them  to  Xatika.     I  found  a   thick  letter, 
sealed  and  addressed   to  her,  in  Victor's  writing- 
desk.     I  forwarded  it  as  soon  as  we  arrived,  with  a 
newspaper  containing  the  notice  of  his  death  at  sea. 
"  The  remains  have  gone  on  to  Louisiana.    I  find 
myself  so  much  fatigued  and  exhausted  by  watching, 
anxiety  and  grief,  that  I  must  stay  here  a  while  to 
rest,  before  I  renew  my  travels.     My  engagement  is 
ended,  and  I  long  for  home ;  so  you  may  expect  me 
soon.     Grandpapa  will  have  to  take  me  in  until  I 
can  provide  myself  with  an  establishment  in  my  own 
long-deserted  huge  house.     His  and  your 

"  Panola." 


252  PANOLA. 

The  group  of  friends  stood  around  Victor's  open 
grave.  The  words  ''  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to 
dust"  had  just  been  uttered,  and  the  earth  was  being 
cast  gently  upon  the  coffin,  when  a  woman  made  her 
way  through  the  small  group  to  the  side  of  the 
grave.  She  had  a  blauket  pinned  over  her  head. 
She  put  this  aside,  and  revealed  the  dusky  features 
of  Indian  Molly,  Cherokee  Joe's  wdfe.  She  knelt, 
and  laid  upon  the  descending  coffin  a  hatchet  whose 
handle  was  streaked  and  painted  with  red,  and  a 
pipe  tufted  with  red  feathers ;  then  she  rose  up 
and  glided  swiftly  away.  Death  had  forestalled 
the  vengeance  of  the  Cherokee.  Tlie  grave  was 
filled  in  silence,  and  the  vengeful  w'eapous  were 
buried  with  Victor. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
love's  miracle. 

IT  was  the  very  briglitest  and  most  sunshiny  of 
days,  and  the  mocking-birds  w^ere  trying  to 
kill  themselves  with  singing,  when  Panola  drove  up 
to  the  door  of  Docteur  Canons^e's  house.  The  old 
man  was  at  the  gate,  to  clasp  "his  darling''  in  his 
arms;  and  Lizbette  too,  who  not  only  hugged  Panola 
but  also  Ellen  in  the  fervor  of  her  welcome.     Ellen 


love's   miracle.  253 

did  not  half  like  being  kissed  by  the  old  mulattrcss, 
but  Panola  returned  her  embrace  very  warmly; 
then  leaving  them  all  far  behind  her — for  hers  were 
the  footsteps  of  youth  and  joy— Panola  sprang  up 
the  steps  and  into  oSIark's  study.  There  he  sat  in 
the  old  place.  Without  a  thought  of  wrong,  Panola 
rushed  towards  him  with  her  outstretched  arms. 
"Mark!  dear  Mark  !  " 
«  Panola ! " 

With  that  word,  :Mark,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  clasped  to  his  heart  the  one  woman  he  loved. 
He  strained  her  to  his  bosom  with  an  immense  pas- 
sion he  could  not  control  for  an  instant.  Panola 
recoiled,  and  seemed  to  struggle  to  free  herself 
from  that  passionate  clasp.  The  meaning  burst 
upon  her.  It  was  only  for  an  instant.  The  next, 
her  arms  were  about  his  neck,  and  her  lips  turned 
up  to  meet  his  kiss — one  supreme  moment  of  bliss 
after  long  parting.  Panola  heard  grandpapa  coming, 
but  she  did  not  move;  she  lay  still  in  Mark's 
embrace. 

Joy,  intense  and  beyond  expression,  thrilled 
through  :SIark.  Life  seemed  to  pour  in  an  immense 
wave'^of  emotion  and  vital  force  through  every 
nerve,  every  muscle.  His  heart  beat  like  a  drum  ; 
its  pulsations  could  be  heard. 

Docteur    Canonge    stopped    short   at    the   door, 
transfixed  by  the  sudden  revelation  betrayed  by  the 
grouping  of  the  actors  in  this  little  domestic  drama. 
"Ah  !  vat  is  dis?  "  he  exclaimed. 


254  PANOLA. 

Mark  laughed  aloud.  He  was  radiant  in  liis 
happiness.  He  gently  lifted  Panola  from  his 
bosom. 

*'  She  will  never  leave  us  again,  grandpapa,"  said 
Mark. 

"!N'o,  never!''  replied  Panola,  energetically 
throwing  herself  upon  the  old  man's  breast.  She 
wept  a  few  tears  of  joy. 

''  Grandpapa  !  Panola ! "  cried  Mark,  suddenly, 
lifting  himself  up  from  his  chair,  by  resting  his 
hands  on  its  arms ;  ''  Grandpapa,  give  me  your 
hands.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  a  new  vigor  was  pour- 
ing through  my  nerves !  I  think — I  believe — 
Panola !     Let  me  try — help  me  to  try  to  iccdkJ' 

The  tvro  sprang  towards  him.  They  seized  his 
hands.  They  drew  him  to  his  feet.  Mark  stood 
tottering  with  their  arms  around  him.  Panola 
kissed  his  hands  violently.  "  Try,  jNIark !  dear 
i\Iark,  try !  One  step,  Mark  ! "  Poising  one  hand 
upon  her  shoulder,  and  resting  the  other  upon  his 
grandfather's  arm,  Mark,  by  an  immense  effort, 
lifted  his  foot  and  made  one  step  forward,  then 
another.  They  sustained  him,  their  very  souls 
hanging  upon  his  movements. 

"  Grasp  my  hand  firmly,  Panola ! "  he  cried. 
"  Life  power  seems  to  flow  into  me  from  the  clasp 
of  your  hands  ! " 

They  held  him  firmly.  He  walked  across  the 
room  to  the  window,  then  back. 


LOVES     MIRACLE.  2oo 

'^  Now,"  he  said,  "  let  go  my  hands."  They 
dropped  his  hands.  Docteur  Canonge  was  weeping. 
Panola  walked  away  to  the  other  side  of  tlie  room, 
stopped,  stood  leaning  forward  with  her  arms  ex- 
tended wide,  as  a  mother  does  when  her  child  makes 
its  first  tottering  steps.  There  was  a  whole  heaven 
of  love  and  strength  in  her  eyes.  '^  Mark,  my 
love  !     Mark  !  "  she  said,  softly. 

Mark  laughed  in  his  wild,  joyful  excitement. 
Throwing  his  head  back,  he  stood  erect  and  walked 
firmly  though  carefully  across  the  room,  and  caught 
Panola  airain  in  his  arms ;  coverino-  her  face  with 
kisses,  he  bowed  his  head  above  hers,  hidden  upon 
his  breast. 

"  My  God  !  I  .thank  thee  !  "  he  said. 

Docteur  Canonge  stole  out  of  the  room  ;  but  a 
half  hour  later,  he  poked  his  head  inside  of  the 
doorway,  his  eyes  very  red  from  weeping  for  joy, 
and  he  called  out  in  quavering  tones : 

"Mark,  I  muss  apologize  to  zie  manes  of  my 
good  brudder  Jacob !  A  wise  man  was  Jacob  !  ITe 
know  how  to  make  you  get  Avell  again.  He  was 
better  docteur  as  me !  I  have  been  most  ungrateful 
to  Jacob.  You  will  have  all  zie  money,  and  zie 
Charitee  will  go  beo*.     How  wise  was  Jacob  !  " 


256  PANOLA. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

f 

THE    CHEROKEE     CHIEF. 

MARK  and  Panola  walked  to  the  little  church, 
when  they  were  married,  shortly  after  her 
return.  Panola  had  no  trousseau,  but  she  had 
plenty  of  very  nice  clothes  she  had  brought  with 
her  from  Paris.  She  had  not  even  a  pro2:)er  wed- 
ding-gown, but  she  wore  a  very  pretty  pink  silk 
one,  and  her  wreath  was  made  of  real  roses  and 
un medicated  orange  flowers. 

Satana  came  from  the  Xation  to  give  the  bride 
away,  and  Mark's  curiosity  in  regard  to  this  famous 
chief  was  fully  gratified.  Satana  was  dressed  like 
a  Christian,  in  the  finest  linen  and  broadcloth.  He 
wore  lemon-colored  gloves,  and  a  high  silk  hat, 
which  he  held  gracefully  in  his  hand,  and  he  be- 
haved altogether  very  much  like  the  Christians 
who  surrounded  him  on  this  memorable  occasion. 
He  was  a  very  handsome,  tall  half-breed,  and  had 
graduated  at  Yale  College.  So,  as  Lizbette  said, 
'^he  knew  very  well  what  icas  what  J'  He  presented 
Panola  with  some  handsome  jewels,  and  the  pret- 
tiest fan  that  Tyndale,  of  Xew  York,  could  manu- 
facture. And  Panola  found  upon  her  dressing-table 
her  lost  golden  rattlesnake. 

After  the  wedding,  when  he  was  smoking  a  cigar 


THE    CHEROKEE     CHIEF.  257 

on  the  verandali  with  Mark  and  Docteur  Canontre, 
and  they  spoke  of  "the  peas^'  and  "the  powder^' 
that  Cherokee  Joe  had  giv^en  to  Satana,  his  chief, 
Satana  said  that  Cheroivee  Joe  had  seen  Madame 
Boiling  mix  the  powders  in  some  lemonades  that 
were  prepared  for  jNIajor  Flanoy.  That  he  had 
observed  the  expression  of  her  face,  which  he  did 
not  like.  So  he  watched  her  and  he  distrusted  her. 
He  stole  one  of  the  powders  out  of  her  dressing- 
room  at  the  Pavilion. 

Shortly  after  Chicora  was  taken  ill,  in  prowling 
about,  watching  madame,  he  had  seen  Nana  pound- 
ing the  peas  in  a  mortar.  He  managed  to  secure  a 
few  of  them  also.  Then  he  tried  to  get  some  infor- 
mation about  the  two  articles.  He  did  not  succeed 
in  this,  before  the  visit  of  Professor  Romer;  further 
than  this,  and  that  Joe  had  brought  the  powder  and 
the  peas  to  him^  Satana  would  not  say  if  he  knew. 
Ko  one  could  guess  anything  from  his  imperturbable 
countenance.  He  quietly  parried  any  furtlier  C[ues- 
tioning.  He  said  Joe  was  gone  far  out  west  on  the 
hunting-grounds  of  the  tribe. 

Mark  could  scarcely  persuade  himself  to  believe 
that  this  quiet,  elegant  gentleman^  who  sat  smoking 
liis  cigar  so  ffracefullv,  was  the  terrible  chief  who 
had  led  his  tribe  during  the  Confederate  war,  in  all 
the  glory  of  red  paint  and  war  feathers,  by  the  side 
of  Colonel  Albert  Pike.  He  was  as  gentle  now  "as  a 
sucking-dove.'^  But  the  other  Indians,  enemies  of 
^16 


258  PANOLA. 

his  tribe,  knew  Satana  very  well.  He  grew  weary 
occasionally  of  the  tedium  of  peace  and  civilization, 
and  when  he  did  put  on  his  leggings  and  war- 
crown,  the  Comanches  and  Apaches  sent  their 
runners  to  summon  all  their  bravest  allies.  It  re- 
quired no  telegraph  to  announce  that  Satana  icas  on 
the  icar-path.  The  '* smoke  beacons"  of  the  Indiana 
leaped  instantly  from  every  hill  top. 

Satana's  warriors  were  no  longer  armed  with  the 
traditional  bow  and  arrow,  or  the  tomahawk.  They 
had  very  excellent  Henry  and  Spencer  breech- 
loading  rifles,  and  the  latest  improved  patents  of 
revolvers.  Satana  was  telling  Mark  now  about  a 
very  fine  "  Greener  shot-gun  of  laminated  steel " 
lie  had  had  made  in  England,  at  a  cost  of  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  He  said  he  liked  it  better 
than  "  one  he  had  g^ot  from  Lie(>;es."  Pinned  care- 
fully  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  black  broadcloth 
satin-lined  coat  Satana  wore  a  pretty  spray  of 
bright  pea  blossoms.  He  had  gathered  them  as  the 
wedding  party  passed  out  of  the  churchyard.  Doc- 
teur  Canonge  saw  him  stoop  down,  for  an  instant, 
as  the  cortege  passed  by  Madame  Boiling's  grave, 
and  pluck  a  flaunting  branch  of  the  luxuriant  vines. 

He  carelessly  asked  Docteur  Canonge  for  its  true 
botanical  name.  That  night,  after  he  had  retired 
to  his  apartment,  Satana  put  the  faded  flowers  into 
an  envelope,  sealed  it,  and  wrote  in  pencil  upon  the 
envelope  these  words : 


THE     CHEROKEE     CHIEF.  259 

THE  LATHYRUS  SATIVTJS, 

OR 

CHICKEN  vetchling: 

FROM  THE  GRAVE    OF    MADAME  BOLLTNG, 

added  the  date,  and  put  the  envelope  into  his 
handsome  travelling-bag.  The  veneering  of  civi- 
lization had  made  the  Cherokees  a  more  agreeable 
people  to  their  white  neighbors;  but  there  were 
malicious  persons  who  said  that  in  the  privacy  of 
the  Cherokee  houses  there  were  Bluebeard  cup- 
boards, where  all  trophies  were  carefully  preserved; 
and  that  there  were  still  some  nicely  dried  scalps 
of  white  men,  even  in  Satana's  mahogany  ward- 
robes, as  trophies  from  the  recent  war. 

The  Cherokees  often  assured  their  pale-faced 
brothers,  "  that  although  their  skins  were  red,  their 
hearts  were  all  white."  But  Docteur  Canonge  used 
to  shruo-  his  shoulders  at  that.  He  said,  "  AYhere 
the  blood  remained  unmixed,  that  their  hearts  were 
as  red  as  their  faces.''  But  then  Docteur  Canonge 
was  a  very  obstinate  physiologist,  and  Docteur 
Canonge  also  said,  in  speaking  of  the  mustang  or 
Indian  pony,  "  that  it  had  improved  upon  its  an- 
cestor, the  Andalusian  barb,  both  in  bottom,  swift- 
ness, and  docility.''  Altogether  Docteur  Canonge 
considered  "a  well-mounted  Indian  warrior,  like 
Satana,  a  formidable  and  unpleasant  antagonist." 

Mark  and  Panola  made  a  large  votive  offering  to 


260  PANOLA. 

the  Charity,  when  Mark  took  possession  of  uncle 
Jacob's  estate. 

Panola  srave  a  beautiful  memorial  window  to  the 
church,  where  Victor  and  his  little  child  and  her 
parents  were  buried. 

"  Mark,"  said  Panola,  "  there  is  nothing  so  sad 
to  me  as  the  failure  of  such  a  life  as  Victor's.  He 
never  had  justice  done  him  by  any  of  us.  I  did  not 
love  him  as  much  as  I  ought.  Xatika,  to  whom 
he  save  his  truest  devotion,  did  not  love  him.  All 
the  women  and  all  the  men  he  knew  disappointed 
him,  except  grandpapa.  The  only  humaa  being 
who  really  comprehended  Victor  and  fully  appre- 
ciated him  was  mamma,  and  you  know  how  that 
was.  She  would  not  have  died  so  ani^rv  at  him  if 
she  had  not  loved  him.  I  was  not  at  all  angry.  I 
was  glad  when  he  went  away.  Ah,  there  is  nothing 
of  any  value  without  love.  I  have  had  fame  and 
j^lenty  of  money,  but  love  is  the  only  thing  of  any 
worth — love,  whether  it  be  in  the  forest  or  in  the 
palace." 

!Mark  stopped  her  mouth  with  a  kiss.  He  ap- 
23 roved  of  her  logic,  as  well  as  of  her  practice. 
Grandpapa  Canouge  still  gives  soirees,  and  he  and 
Madame  Duplessis  mere  always  lead  the  "cotillon," 
and  will  continue  to  do  so  till  thev  are  a  century 
old. 

The  sunshine  falls  brilliantly  over  the  church- 
yard.    The  marble  tombs  of  Victor  and    Chicora 


THE    CHEROKEE    CHIEF.  261 

are  glitteringly  white  in  the  splendor  of  its  light. 
On  the  topmost  bough  of  the  oak  tree,  whose  wav- 
ing shadows  chequer  the  graves,  a  mocking  bird  is 
singing,  "Sweetie,  sweetie,  Bob  White,  Bob  White," 
and  it  ends  its  cadence  with  the  three  notes  of  the 
troopiall.  It  had  learned  its  singing  lesson  during 
the  eventful  years.  In  the  depths  of  the  oak  bough, 
its  mate  sits  on  a  nest  of  young  birds,  and  replies  to 
the  bursts  of  music  with  a  short  cry  of  "Chic!  chic! 
chicora!  chic!  chic!  chicora!  chic!  cJiic!'^  And 
the  young  ones  respond,  *'  chee-chee-squah,"  as  they 
stretch  wide  their  yawning  bills  for  the  striped 
caterpillars  their  parents  gather  up  to  feed  them 
"with.  The  early  peas  and  the  strawberries  are  de- 
voured more  freely  than  ever  out  of  Docteur  Can- 
onge^s  garden.  The  birds  are  still  predatory  as 
Indians  in  their  habits. 


THE   END. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  and  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


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The  Fatal  Secret, 

How  He  Won  Her, 

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A  Noble  Lord, 

Lost  Heir  of  Linlithgow,.... 

Tried  for  her  Life, 

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75  The  Fatal  Marriage, $1   75 

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75   The  Fortune  Seeker, 1  75 

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75   The  Lost  Heiress, 1  75 

75  The  Two  Sisters, 1   75 

75   Lady  of  the  Isle, 1   75 

75   Prince  of  Darkness, 1  75 

75   The  Three  Beauties, 1  75 

75  Vivia  ;  or  the  Secret  of  Power,  1  75 

75  Love's  Labor  Won, 1   75 

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75   Allworth  Abbey 1   75 

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75  ;  Discarded  Daughter 1  75 


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Rubv  Gray's  Strategy 1  75  j  The  Old  Homestead, 1  75 

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2    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 
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Marcus  Warland 1    75 


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The  Banished   Son, 1   75 

Helen  and  Arthur, ]    75 


$1 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

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Would  gave  the  price  of  it  in  a  wetk's  cooking. 

The  Queen  of  the  Kitchen.     Containing  1007  Old  Maryland 

Family  Receipts  for  Cooking Cloth, 

Miss  Leslie"*  New  Cookery  Bouk,.... Cloth, 

Mrs.  Hale's  Xew  Cook  Book, Cloth, 

Petersons'  New  Cook  Book Cloth, 

Widdifield's  New  Cook  Book, Cloth, 

Mrs.  Goodfellow's  Cookery  as  it  Should  Be, Cloth, 

The  National  Cook  Book.     By  a  Practical  Housewife, Cloth, 

The  Young  Wife's  Cook  Book Cloth, 

Miss  Leslie's  New  Receipts  for  Cooking, Cloth, 

Mrs.  Hale's  Receipts  for  the  Million, Cloth, 

The  Family  Save- All.    By  author  of  "National  Cook  Book,"  Cloth, 
Francatelli's   Modern  Cook.     "With   the    most  approved    methods    of 
French,  English,  German,  and  Italian  Cookery.     With  Sixty-two 
Illustrations.     One  volume  of  600  pages,  bound  in  morocco  cloth,  5  00 

JAMES  A.  MAITLAND'S   WORKS. 

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each  :  or  $12.25  a  set,  aich  set  is  put  up  in  a  titul  box. 

The  Watchman, SI  75  i  D'.ary  of  an  Old  Doctor, $1    75 

The  Wanderer, 1  75    Sartaroe, 1   75 

The  Lawyer's  Story 1   75  I  The  Three  Cousins 1    75 

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■^he  Sealed  Packet, $1   7'>    Dream  Numbers, Si  75 

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Leonora  CasaLmi,...   1  75  |  Gemma. 1  75  |  Marietta, 1  75 

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T.  B,  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.     3 


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A  New  W:iy  to  Win  a  Fortuue$l  75 


The  DiscarJed  Wife, 1  75 

The  Clandestiue  Marriage 1  75 

The  Hidden  Sin 1   75 

The  Dethroned  Heiress, 1   75 

The  Gipsy's  Warning, 1  75 

All  Fur  Love, 1  75 


Why  Did  He  Marry  llcr  ? $1  75 

Who  Shall  be  Victor? 1  75 

The  Mysterious  Guest, 1  75 

Was  He  Guilty? 1   75 

The  Ciincelled  Will, 1  75 

The  Planter's  Daughter, 1  75 

Michael  Rudolph, 1  75 


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The  Border  Rover, $1  75  I  Bride  of  the  Wilderness, $1  75 

Clara  Moreland, 1  75  i  Ellen  Norbury, I  75 

The  Orphan's  Trials, I  75  '  Kate  Clarendon, 1   75 

Viola:  or  A'lventures  in  the  Far  South-West, 1   75 

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After  Dark 75 


The  Queen's  Revenge, 75 

Miss  or  Mrs? 50 

Mad  Monkton, 50 

Sights   a-Foot, 50 


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FRANK  FORRESTER'S   SPORTING  BOOK. 

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«  •  »  »  » 

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4    T.  B.  PETEESOIT  &  BUOTHERS'  PTTBLICATIOIIS. 
WORKS  BY  THE  VERY  BEST    AUTKOBS. 

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The  Initials.      A  Love  Story.      By  Baroness  Tautphceu?, $1   75 

Married  Beneath  Him.     By  author  of  '*  Lost  Sir  Massinj^berd," ]   To 

Lost  Sir  Massingberd.    By  author  of '' Married  Beneath  Him," 1    75 

The  Ciyfifards  of  Clytfe,  by  author  of  "Lost  Sir  Massingberd," 1  75 

Margaret  Maitland.     By  Mrs.  Oliphant,  author  of  "Zaidee," 1   75 

Family  Pride.     By  author  of  "  Pique,"  "  Family  Secrets,"  etc 1   75 

'^elf-Sacrifice.     By  author  of  "  Margaret  Maitland."  etc 1   75 

The  Woman  in  Black.     A  Companion  to  the  ''Woman  in  White/' ...   1   75 

A  Woman's  Thoughts  about  Women.     By  Miss  Muloch, 1  75 

Flirtations  in  Fashionable  Life.     By  Catharine  Sinchiir, 1   75 

False  Pride;  or.  Two  Ways  to  Matrimony.     A  Charming  Book, 1  75 

Rose  Douglas.  A  Companion  to  "  Family  Pride,"  and  **  Self  Sacrifice,"  1  75 
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Tiie  Heiress  in  the  Family.     By  Mrs.  Mackenzie  Daniel, 1  75 

Popery  Exposed,     ^n  Exposition  of  Popery  as  it  was  and  is, 1  75 

The  Heiress  of  Sweetwater.     A  Charming  Novel, 1   75 

A'i'oman's  Wrong.     By  Mrs.  Eiloart,  author  of  "St.  Bede's," 1   75 

The  Autobiographj' of  Edward  Wortley  Montagu, 1  75 

A  Lonely  Life.    By  the  author  of  "  Wise  as  a  Serpent,"  etc 1    75 

The  Macdermots  of  Ballycloran.     By  Anthony  Trollope, 1  75 

The  Forsaken  Daughter.     A  Companion  to  "Linda," 1  75 

Love  and  Liberty.     A  Revolutionary  Story.     By  Alexander  Dumas,  1   75 

Tne  Morrisons.     By  Mrs.  Margaret  Hosmer, 1  75 

"My  Son's  Wife.     By  author  of  "  Caste,"  "  Mr.  Arle,"  etc 1  75 

J"ne  Rich  Husband.     By  author  of  "  George  Gcith," 1  75 

Hiirem  Lite  in  Egypt  and  Constantinople.     By  Emuieliue  Lott.......   1  75 

The  Rector's  Wife;  or,  the  Valley  of  a  Hundred  Fires, 1  75 

Woodburn  Grange.     A  Novel.     By  William  Howitt, 1  75 

Country  Quarters.     By  the  Countess  of  Blessington, 1  75 

"^utof  the  Depths.     The  Story  of  a  "'Woman's  Life," T  75 

The  Devoted  Bride.     A  Story  of  the  Heart.     By  St.  George  Tucker,  1  75 

The  Coquette:  or,  the  Life  and  Letters  of  Eliza  Wharton, 1  75 

The  Pride  of  Life.     A  Story  of  the  Heart.     By  Lady  Jane  Scott,....   1  75 

T'le  Lust  Beauty.     By  a  Noted  Lady  of  the  Spanish  Court, 1  75 

My  Hero.     By  Mrs.  Forrester.     A  Charming  Love  Story, 1  75 

Tne  Quaker  Soldif^r.  A  Revolutionary  Romance.  By  Judge  Jones,....  1  75 
The  Man  of  the  World.  An  Autobiography.  By  William  North,...  1  75 
The  Queen's  Favorite  :  or,  The  Price  of  a  Crown.     A  Love  Story,...  1  75 

vSelf  Love:   or,  The  Afternoon  of  Single  and  Married  Life, 1   75 

Memoirs  of  Vidoeq,  the  French  Detective.  His  Life  and  Adventures,  1  75 
Camors.  "The  Man  of  the  Second  Empire."  By  Octave  Feuillet,..  1  75 
The  Belle  of  Washington.  With  her  Portrait.  By  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lasselle,  1  75 
Cora  Belmont;  or.  The  Sincere  Lover.  A  True  Story  of  the  H -art..  1  75 
The  Lover's  Trials;  or  Da3's  befo'-e  1776.  By  Mrs.  Mary  A.  Denison,  1  75 
High  Life  in  Washington.    A  Life  Picture.    By  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lnsselle,  1    75 

Tlie  Beautiful  Widow;  oi*,  Lodore.     By  Mrs.  Percy  B.  Shelley, 1    75 

Love  and  Money.  By  J.  B.  Jonps,  author  of  the  "  Rival  Belies,"...  1  75 
The  Matchmaker.  A  Story  of  High  Life.  By  Beatrice  Reynolds,..  ]  75 
The  Brother's  Secret;  or,  the  Count  De  Mara.  By  William  (iodwin,  1  75 
Life,  Speeches  and  Martyrdom  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  Illustrated....  1  75 
Rome  and  the  Papacy.  A  History  of  the  Men.  Manners  and  Tempo- 
ral Government  of  Rome  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 1  75 

Above  books  are  each  in  cloth,  or  each  one  is  in  paper  cover,  at  §1.50  each. 

1^"  Above  Books  will  be  sent, postage  paid,  on  Receipt  of  Retail  Pric*, 
by  T.  B.  Peterson  &  Brothers,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHEES'  PUBLICATIONS.    5 


WORKS  BY  THE  VERY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

Tlie  jolloiciiiy  books  are    tavh    jfinucd    in    one   larye   daodtvinio   volume, 
lomitl  in  cloth,  at  $1.75  each,  or  each  one  is  in  paper  cover  at  $1.50  each. 

Tlie  Count  of  Munte-Cri^to.     By  Alexander  Dumas.     Illuttr:ittMl,...§l  75 

The  Countess  of  Monte-Cristo.     Paper  cover,  price  $l.t'U  :  or  cloth,..  1   75 

Camille:  or,  the  Fate  of  a  Coquette.     By  Alexander  Duuias, 1   75 

The  Lost  Love.    By  Mrs.  Oliphant.  author  of  "  Margaret  Maitlaud,"  1   75 

The  Roman  Traitor.     By  Henry  William  Herbert.    A  Romun  Story,  1  75 

The  Bohemians  of  London.     By  Edward  M.  Whitty 1  75 

The  Rival  Belles,"  or,  Life  in  Washington.     By  J.  B.  Jones, 1   75 

Love  and  Duty.    By  Mrs.  Hubback,  author  of  ''  ^Lny  and  Deoeriiber,"  1    75 

Wild  Sports  and  Adventures  iu  Africa.     By  Maj<jr  W.  C.  Harris,  1  75 

Courtship  and  Matrimony.     By  Robert  Morris.     With  a  Portrait,...  1  75 

The  Jealous  Husband.     By  Annette  Marie  Maillard, 1   75 

QMie  Refugee.      By  Herman   Melville,  author  of  "Omoo,"  ■'  Typee,"  1   75 

The  Life,  Writings,  and  Lectures  of  the  late  '•  Fanny  Fern," 1  75 

Tile  Life  and  Lectures  of  Lola  Moutez,  with  her  portrait, 1  75 

Wild  Southern  Scenes.     By  author  of  "Wild  Western  Scenes,'" 1  75 

Currer  Lyle;  or,  the  Autobiography  of  an  Actress.  By  Louise  Reeder.  1  75 

The  Cabin  and  Parlor.     By  J.  Thornton  Randolph.     Illustrated, 1  75 

The  Little  Beauty.     A  Love  Story.     By  Mrs.  Grey. 1   75 

Lizzie  Glenn;  or,  the  Trials  of  a  Seamstress.     By  T.  S.  Arthur, 1  75 

Lady  Maud  ;  or,  the  Wonder  of  King-wood  Chase.    By  Pierce  Egan,  1  75 

Wilfred  Montressor ;  or.  High  Life  in  Kew  York.     Illustrated, 1  75 

The  Old  Stone  Mansion.  By  C.  J.  Peterson,  author  •' Kate  Aylesford,"  1  75 

Kate  Aylesford.  By  Chas.  J.  Peterson,  author  "  Old  Stone  Mansion,".  1  75 

Lorrimer  Littlegood,  bj'  author  '•  Harry  Coverdale's  Courtship," 1  75 

The  Earl's  Secret.     A  Love  Story.     By  Miss  Pardoe, 1  75 

The  Adopted  Heir.  By  Miss  Pardoe.  author  of  "The  Earl's  Secret,"  1  75 

Coal,  Coal  Oil,  and  all  other  Minerals  in  the  Earth.     By  Eli  Bowen,  1  75 

Secession,  Coercion,  and  Civil  War.     By  J.  B,  Jones, 1  75 

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The  Dead  Secret.    By  Wilkie  Collins,  author  "  The  Crossed  Path,"... 

The  Crossed  Path;  or  Basil.     By  Wilkie  Collins, 

Indiana.     A  Love  Story.     By  George  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo," 
Jealf)usy  ;  or,  Teverino.   By  George  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo,"  etc. 


50 
50 
50 
50 


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BOOKS  FOR  PRIVATE  STUDY  AND  SCHOOLS. 

The  Lawrence  Speaker.  A  Selection  of  Literary  Gems  in  Poetry  and 
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Coinstock's  Elocution  and  Model  Speaker.  Intended  for  the  use  of 
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drew Comstock  and  Philip  Lawrence.     With  236  Illustrations 2  00 

The  French,  German,  Spanish.  Latin  and  Italian  Languages  Without 
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6  T.  B.  PETERSOIT  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS  BY  THE  VERY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

Tlie  following   books  are  each  issued  in   one   large   duodecimo   volume, 
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Rose  Foster.     By  George  W.  M.  Reynolds,  Esq., $1  75 

The  Cuiiscripi ;  or,  the  Days  of  Napoleon  1st.     By  Alex.  Duiuas, 1  75 

Cousin  Hany.  By  Mrs.  <irey,  author  of  '•  The  Gambler's  Wife,"  etc.  1  75 

Saratoga.     An  Inilian  Tale  of  Frontier  Life.   A  true  Story  of  1787,.-  1  75 

Married  at  Last.     A  Love  Story.      Bv  Annie  Ttiouia«, 1  75 

Shoulder  Straps.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  '•  Days  of  Shoddy,"  1  75 

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The  Coward.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  ''  Shoulder  Straps," 1  75 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.  7 
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•  »  ♦ 


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P*  E  nr  E  F?  SONS' 

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^Ei^aa 

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CHARLES  O'MALLEY,  The  Irish  Dragoon.    By  Charles  Lever. 

CYKIIjL A.     A  Love  Story.    By  author  of  '■  The  Inirials." 

THE  ELIRT.    By  Mrs.  Grey,  author  of  "  The  Gambler's  Wife." 

EDIiKT  A.     A  Love  Storj'.    By  :Mr3.  Henry  Wood. 

HASSY  LOKREQUER.    With  His  Confessions.    By  Charles  Lever. 

AURORA  FLOYD.    A  Love  Story.    By  Miss  M.  E.  Braddon. 

CORINNE  ;  or,  ITALY.    By  Madame  De  StaeL 

POPPIJNTG  THE  QUESTION.    By  author  of  "  The  Jilt." 

FIRST  AND  TRUE  LOVE.    By  George  Sand. 

THE  COQUETTE.    A  Channing  Love  Story.    By  author  of  "  Misserimus." 

THE  MYSTERY.     A  Love  Story.    By  Mi-s.  Henry  Wood. 

THE  MAN  WITH  FIVE  "WIVES.    By  Alexander  Dumas. 

•PHE  JEALOUS  WIFE.     By  Miss  Julia  Pardee. 

THACKERAY'S  IRISH  SKETCH  BOOK.    Illustrated. 

THE  WIPE'S  TRIALS.    A  Love  Story.    By  ,Miss  JuUa  Pardoe. 

PICKWICK  ABROAD.    Illustrated.    By  George  W.  M-  Eeynolds. 

THE  DEAD  SECRET.    By  Wilkie  Collins. 

CONFESSIONS  OP  A  PRETTY  WOMAN.    By  Mss  Pardoe. 

SYLVESTER  SOUND.    By  author  of  '^  Valentine  Vox." 

BASIL  ;  or.  The  Crossed  Path.    By  Wilkie  Collins 

THE  RIVAL  BEAUTIES.     By  Miss  JuUa  Pardoe. 

THE  STEWARD.     By  author  of  "  Valentine  Vox." 

MARRYING  FOR  MONEY.     By  Mrs.  Ma<:kenzie  Daniels. 

THE  LOVE  MATCH.     A  Love  Story.     By  Henry  Cockton 

FLIRTATIONS  IN  AMERICA;  or.  High  Life  in  New  York. 

WHITEFRIARS ;  or.  The  Days  of  Charles  the  Second. 

HIDE  AND  SEEK.    A  Noveh    By  Wilkie  Cllins. 

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SELF-LOVE ;  or.  The  Afternoon  of  Single  Life,    Prosiiects  in 

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THE  MAN  OF  THE  "WORLD.  By  William  North.  For  purenesa 
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MRS.  SARAH  A.  DORSET'S  WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  large  Tolame. 

PANOLA.  A  Tale  of  Loiu'itiana.  By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey, 
aurhor  of  "Agues  Graham,"  "Athalie,"  "  Lucia  Dare,"  etc.  Com- 
plete iu  oue  large  duodecioio  volume,  black  and  gold,  price  Sl.oO. 

"Panola"  will  bo  fund  to  l.e  a  work  of  great  ruerit,  dealing  with  scenes  and 
cbaracters  n<>t  often  found  in  fiction.  It  is  8en»ati"n;il,  tbimgli  a  romante  of  real 
life.  Tbe  scene  and  action  are  partly  in  Lonisiaua  and  partlj  in  Paris  The  charac- 
ters are  well  drawn,  and  the  incidents,  tlioiiL^h  ponielinies  startling,  never  p)a-5d  the 
line  of  pro) lability,  f.)r  Mrs  Porsoy,  the  anihur,  is  a  puh^hed  scholar  auJ  a  gmcctul 
Wiiler.     The  following  gives  the  heads  of  each  chapter  in  the  work: 

TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 


JN   THE   ATTAKAPAS. 
THE   HFROI.NE 
A    FAMILY    Gr.OrP. 
ACTED   CHAR.M)ES. 
KATJKA    JACQVi.MlV. 
CHEROKEE    JOE    SUSP-CTS. 
WUCH-MARKIED   LIZCCTIE. 
A    GER.-MAN    NATfRALlST. 
MONSIEUR   LE   IiOtTECa. 
A   VERY   WOMVN. 

corsi.NS'  GOSSIP, 

CiilCORA'S   FAWN. 

A  SAG!.'S   PIIILOSOPHT. 

TUE   ASTROXOMiCAL    CALCULATION. 

TUE   STORY   OF   ODIX. 


lOrz   WILL   RULE. 

HOT   SPUIXr.S    OF    ARKANSAS. 

IN    THE    DARK    TI'ifRS. 

W  ART.  I  ED   IN   HASTE. 

PASSING   AWAT. 

CIlICoaA'S   DEATH, 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   tOVE. 

MADAME  Billing's  flowers. 

A    SfCCLSSFfL    DEEfTAXTi;. 

A    SEVENTEENTH    CEXIUUY    POISON. 

TRAGIC   RET.llBfTION. 

PAXOLA    IN    PARIS. 

VlfTOi'i'S    DEATH. 

LOVES   MIRACLE. 

THc:    CHEROKEE    CHIEF. 


Read  the  foUowinj  nnficu  of '■^ Panola,"'  wrillen  by  Dr.  Mickcnzi',  Literary  Editor 
of  F'Htvy's  Daily  Pre^s,  who  read  the  work  in  manuscript. 

"Panol\,"  a  Tale  of  Lonisiana,  is  from  the  pen  of  Mrs  Sarah  A.  Porsey,  a  tal- 
piited  and  highly  edncated  lady,  distingui-hed  in  biography  and  romance.  1  he 
story  is  very  jicculi.ir,  and  strikingly  original,  in  it.s  philosophy,  its  iiidividuality 
of  characters,  and  the  successive  steps  in  the  narrative  by  which  the  action  culmi- 
nates in  a  very  striking  and  most  xiuexpected,  though  highly  satisfactory  cunclu- 
Bion.  Life  in  th"  s  'Uih-western  part  of  Louisiana  is  represented  with  a  brilliancy 
of  descrijvtion  which,  indeed,  is  word-j'ainting  of  the  mo.--t  artistical  order.  Al- 
thotigli  Panola,  a  bright  and  lovely  child  of  genius,  Avho  is  a  natural  mnsi- 
ciau.  is  tht'  principal  heroine — a  veritable  frimt.  li'i/ni  i'l  more  ways  than  one — 
there  is  a  rival,  scarcely  less  beautiiul  if  somewhat  less  e.xcellent.  There  are 
two  lovers,  to  maintain  the  balance — but  the  best  of  these  has  unfortunately  lost 
the  use  of  his  limb.5 — like  the  young  King  of  the  Ulack  Islands,  of  the  Arabian  tale, 
who  was  half  man  nnil  half  marble.  Under  such  circumstances,  this  gentleman 
would  scarcely  have  his  name  written,  by  a  fashionable  mother,  on  the  list  of  "eli- 
gible" candidates  for  her  fair  daughter's  hand!  Nevertheless,  he  does  contrive 
to  marry  the  '' ladye  of  his  love,"  t)  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  both,  though  the 
preliminary  miracle  which  enabled  this  to  be  done  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  closing 
chapters  of  the  story.  Panola  has  Cherokee  blood  in  her  veins,  and  some  of  her 
race  prove,  in  this  story,  that  they  indeed  are  "  Children  of  the  Sun  with  whom  Re- 
veut;e  is  viitue."  The  book  abounds  in  interest — marriage,  divorce,  a  great  mu- 
BJcian's  debii'  and  triumph,  the  alternations  of  various  und  conllictiug  passions — 
death  by  poison,  and  the  already  hinted  punishment  of  the  ciimiaal. 

MRS.  SACVn  A.  DORSET'S  OTHER  T\ORES. 

AGNES  GRAHAM.  A  Novel.  By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey. 
Oue  volume,  octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Ceuts. 

ATHALIE.  "A  Winter's  T'de.''  By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey. 
One  volume,  octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Ceuts. 

LUCL\  DARE.  A  Novel.  By  Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Dorsey.  Oue  vol- 
ume, octavo,  paper  cover,  price  Sixty  Ceuts. 

^:^^  Above  hooks  are  for  sale  h\j  all  Booksellers  and  JVcws  Agents, 
or  copies  will  he  sent  to  any  one,  to  any  place,  2wstitf/e  pre-paid,  on 
remiltinj  the  price  of  the  ones  wanted,  in  a  l^ler,  to  the  publishers, 

T.  B.  PETERSOX  ct  BROTHERS, 

306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
366 


